


I Keep My Eyes Wide Open All the Time

by anidear



Series: Before We Learned Our Truth Too Late [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruce being Bruce, Character Death, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Or pre-death?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anidear/pseuds/anidear
Summary: With the potion to restore his memories, Damian is given the choice.  Remember or remain ignorant.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Series: Before We Learned Our Truth Too Late [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013865
Comments: 88
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct follow up to When You Move I Move. This story will not make much sense without that one, so you should make sure you've read that one.
> 
> This entire piece is in Damian's POV and follows the same lifetime the previous story did. This chapter just introduces the story and the following ones will have multiple memories per chapter, which means they'll be much longer than this chapter. The entire story is about 50% done now and I will be posting Fridays. Except for Christmas, probably. I'll be busy with my gremlins so I'll probably post Christmas Eve or Boxing day.

The flight from Gotham to the small airport in the depths of the UK had been uneventful and Damian had welcomed the time to sort out his thoughts. His father had reacted strangely when he had told the man he needed the jet to take him to where Richard and Todd were currently staying, at their request. He had even gone as far as to call Richard and confirm that he had indeed called Damian and asked him to come.

Years had gone by and yet his father still had little trust in his word. It was tiresome and he honestly didn’t know how to right it.

At least Richard believed him.

And Jon. That was enough, he supposed.

But the flight over had allowed him to think of all the possible reasons as to why his presence was being requested above all the other members of the family. And while he felt honored, he was still curious as to why. Above all that, though, was the fact that after months of secrecy and awkward encounters between Richard and Father, Richard was finally going to reveal what it was Fate had shown him and Todd.

“We are about to land, Mr. Wayne. Shall I take your refreshments?” The attendant looked down at the tray that held a cup of tea and a few untouched crackers. Nodding his acceptance, Damian thanked the man as he cleared everything up and headed to the employee area. A glance out the window of the plane showed vast amounts of green. Trees and fields as far as the eye could see. It certainly was a pleasant country.

“We will be making our descent now, Mr. Wayne. Please make sure your belt is fastened and your belongings secure,” the captain’s voice came over the speaker and Damian followed the instructions before he went back to looking out the window.

What was so special about this place?

He couldn’t see anything significant. Even if something about it seemed almost familiar.

Shaking that train of thought away, he looked forward as the wheels hit the tarmac and the plane slowly came to a halt. 

“Is there anything else we can do for you sir? Your father told us to remain stationed until you were ready to return.”

Standing, Damian smoothed out the wrinkles in his slacks before grabbing his bag. “No, I believe I have everything I need. Thank you for the pleasant flight. I will call the captain when I have an idea about a timeline,” he addressed the man, who gave him a smile and a nod. “Do you both have accommodations?”

The man chuckled. “Yes, sir. We are taken care of. Enjoy your time.” Nodding, Damian slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the now open door that the stairs had been rolled up to. Ducking out the doorway, he shielded his eyes and took in the surroundings carefully before he stepped out fully. From his spot he could see a sleek black car with Todd leaning against it, arms crossed and sunglasses hiding his eyes. Richard stood ahead of him, hands in his pockets and mouth moving as he spoke to the man behind him.

He knew he had been spotted the instant Richard’s hand was raised and flagging him over. And Damian couldn’t stop the affectionate roll of his eyes as he made his way down the steps and toward the two men.

“Dami!” Richard smiled brightly, openly. No one smiled the way his older brother did. No one who had lived through what he had still had the ability, yet this man never failed to do it.

“Richard,” Damian greeted, easily stepping into the waiting arms for the customary hug between them. It had been an adjustment to him when he had first joined the family. Physical affection was not the League way. But it seemed to be Richard Grayson default setting. And though it took time, eventually Damian had reached the point where he welcomed it. Almost expected it, even. “Todd,” he greeted the other man from over Richard’s shoulder.

“Gremlin,” Todd said back, affection clear despite the offensive name. He watched the other man push off the car as Richard released him from the hug. “Shall we? Dickie ordered a whole spread to be sent to our room so you two could talk while I’m out running a few errands.”

Damian looked at Richard with a raised brow, but his older brother just smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders even though Damian had passed him in height a few years prior. So Damian didn’t question it and simply allowed himself to be led to the backseat of the car, seated between the two men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could see why Richard and Todd had picked this hotel the moment he entered their room and made his way to the balcony. The view of the courtyard and the peaceful air about the entire place was enough of a selling point. But the rustic, old world feel? That only enhanced it. Leaning against the railing, Damian let the two men talk quietly near the door without him listening in. He knew Todd was leaving so he and Richard could talk about whatever this was about, so he could grant them the privacy in this moment.

“Dames, want something to drink?”

Looking back at his brother, he nodded and moved over to the chairs that the food and drinks had been set up by. He accepted the glass of wine that Richard offered with a quirked brow.

“It’s legal here,” was the shrugged explanation he received. So, he took a sip and sat down on one of the chairs as Richard did the same. “Where should we start?”

Taking a moment to think about it, Damian examined the rich red liquid in his cup. “Why am I here? Of all the family, why me?” He looked up to see Richard nodding and looking out into the distance.

“Jay and I are getting married tomorrow and we wanted you there.” He almost dropped his glass at that revelation. Not at the fact that they wanted him, of all people, to be there. But the fact that they were getting married.

“But,” Damian blinked, trying to form a proper thought. “You have only been seeing each other for six months now? Or was this going on before the incident?”

Dick smiled over at him. “We’ve been dancing this particular dance for many centuries, Little D. That’s what Fate showed us. He showed us lifetimes upon lifetimes of Jason and Richard or Dick and Jay. Lifetimes of us being so close, yet so far.”

That was surprising. Many centuries. That was a lot of lifetimes.

“I have loved him for over a millennium, Dami, but we have never been allowed to be fully happy. Duty, law, or prejudice, along with a curse, has kept us from truly belonging to each other,” Richard explained. And Damian felt his heart clench at the thought of the two of them being close but never fully being able to give into their love. He thought of him and Jon. How he cared so deeply for the other man but feared what Father would think. Feared how he would react should anything happen to Jon because of him. But never had an outside force worked against the two of them. He couldn’t imagine how that would feel. “Now we can finally be together in the eyes of the law and I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“But me? Why not Father?”

Richard smile turned a little sad and Damian watched as he set his cup down before turning to look at Damian fully. “Because you were our son. Because you were of _my_ blood and Jason loved you as though you were of his.” Dropping Richard’s gaze, Damian processed those words. “You were my son with a woman who was not kind or good, in any of her lives. She did some horrible things, but she also gave me you. And that love, that affection, has always been yours. Each and every lifetime, even though you are no longer my blood, you have always been _mine_.”

Except this one, the unspoken words hung heavy.

Looking back to his brother, Damian furrowed his brow. The words made sense. They fell in line with the emotions he often warred with. The feeling as though Richard was more of a father than Bruce Wayne. But blood did not lie. And Damian had seen the analysis. He was indeed a Wayne. But since coming to Gotham, he had always felt more like a Grayson.

“I know you feel it,” Richard broke through his thoughts. “I knew something was wrong the moment I met you in this lifetime, but I didn’t know what. This is the only one where you have not been mine through some means. And it has always felt so wrong.”

“That is why…the morning after, that is what Todd was referring to.” Richard nodded and leaned back in his seat. Damian watched him turn his eyes toward the balcony view, like he was seeing something only he could see. “Richard?”

“Beyond my own feelings on the matter, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to undermine Bruce any more than I already have over the years,” his brother admitted to him. The sadness and the regret were heavy in his voice, and it made Damian hurt for him. He had never known Richard had struggled with this for so long. Sure, he had been aware of blurred lines when his father had “returned from the dead” and taken his place back in the family. But he hadn’t known it was still on-going. “I didn’t want you to struggle with the separation as I had been.”

He was surprised when Richard stood from his chair and sent Damian a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before heading over to the small bedside table and opened a drawer. He couldn’t see what it was the older man had taken out of the drawer, but he knew it was small since it was enclosed in his fist. Instead of questioning, he simply waited for Richard to sit back down and set a small vial of vividly blue liquid on the small table between them.

“What is it?” Damian questioned, keeping his eyes on the vial.

“Your memories,” Richard said softly. That pulled Damian’s attention from the vial to Richard, confusion and curiosity warring in his head. “The sorceress, we called her a healer back then, who planted the curse on Jason and me during our first lifetime together is immortal. She approached me yesterday and gave me that. She said it would open your mind to the previous lifetimes in the same way Fate had done for Jay and me.”

Green eyes darted back to the vial and Damian reached out to take it almost reverently into his palm.

“I still believe my concern is valid. I do not want your relationship with Bruce to suffer because of this. I do not want him to think I am laying claim to you through this,” Richard admitted but Damian kept his eyes on the vial that sat so innocently in his palm. “But the decision is not mine to make. If you want to remember, then you deserve to have that chance.”

Did he want to know? While Richard and Todd seemed happy, he knew there were things that had etched a deep sadness in Richard when they had first encountered Fate. He remembered the lines of pain around his eyes when the elder thought no one was watching. The whispered conversations between him and Todd. How Todd had held him in on random rooftops in Gotham and Richard’s shoulders could be seen quivering from the next rooftop where Damian had observed the pair. He had wondered what could have upset his brother to the point where he would allow himself to fall apart where anyone could see him when he so rarely allowed himself to appear to be anything but strong and steadfast.

“You don’t have to decide right now, Dames,” Richard broke through his musings, drawing his gaze away from the vial yet again. “Take however long you need to decide. Whether you take it this instant or in a year or however long, you just need to be sure it is what you want.”

Damian took a few more moments to consider the liquid in the small vial before he tucked it into the inner breast pocket of his blazer. “I do not know what I will do. But I will consider your opinion on the matter when I decide.” Richard nodded and leaned back in his chair, taking up his wine glass again. “What does Todd think about it?” 

“He thinks you should take it. He thinks that you should know just as we do.” Richard heaved a sigh and looked away from him. “He thinks that the lines are already blurred beyond repair.”

That surprised Damian. While he wouldn’t argue the point, he was surprised Todd had observed it. But perhaps he shouldn’t be considering that Todd always seemed to be watching. Since letting go of his vendetta against Batman, getting control of the Pit, he seemed more observant. Maybe even more than any of the other family members, besides Cassandra.

“I do not believe his observation is wrong.” Richard’s eyes widened and he sat up straight. “Not in my regards, at least. I will not speak for you on the matter. Father is my blood, of course I respect him, but he never earned it. But you…” Damian paused, trying to think of the best way to put his feelings into words. He had never had to do this, and he wasn’t quite sure words were enough. “You _fought_ for me. You _wanted_ me. Even when I had tried to kill Drake and was horrible, you tried. Father just expected.”

The words were heavy with implications, but Damian wasn’t sure they were the right words.

But then Richard’s hand was on his forearm and Damian was seeing the all too familiar look of _love_ in the sapphire blue eyes. And Damian knew it was enough. His point had been made clear without him just coming out and saying it.

“I suppose this is only to be expected given the truths you have revealed to me, that were already revealed to you.” Richard hummed and gave his arm a squeeze before releasing it and lifting his wine glass to his mouth. “You know what I’m going to do, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Richard nodded, eyes slipping closed. “Because it is who you are. Even if you didn’t take the potion tonight, you would eventually do it. I knew the instant I decided it wasn’t my choice to make that you would do it.” Damian watched him sigh before looking back to him. “You don’t remember it yet, but this isn’t the first time you have gone against what I think is best as far as what you know.”

Damian figured it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. Not when Richard was always so intent on protecting him from what he felt he could protect him from.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slipping off the blazer, Damian laid it down on the bed before he pulled out the vial from the hidden pocket and moved over onto his own balcony. The night air was crisp, but it was still warm enough to not be uncomfortable. Despite his years in Gotham, he had never gotten used to the cold after his childhood in Nanda Parbat. The heat was always much more to his liking. But the current air was nice. This was a temperature he could handle.

It also helped clear his head as he considered his options. 

The potion would be taken, that much he knew. But did he want to take it tonight and sleep on the memories or would it be better to wait until he was home in Gotham to do it? Would it make it easier if Richard were there or would it only make things more difficult? Richard had seemed so concerned about the strain it might cause between Father and son, but Damian heard what he would never say. He was worried Father would find out and use it against him in some way. Damian wasn’t a fool; he knew the kind of man his father was. He knew the kinds of things he had done to each of his children over the years. He knew how easy it would be for Richard to be pushed from the family.

But he also knew that if his father did that, Richard would take more than just Todd with him in the feud. 

Looking down at the vial in his hand as he leaned his arms on the railing, he thought about what Todd had said to him when he had walked him to his room for the night.

_“Don’t let Dick fool you into believing he doesn’t want you to know the truth. He wants you to know. But things with your dad and him will forever be complicated. And Dick takes responsibility for much more than he should.” Todd paused and looked at Damian, contemplative and pensive. “Abandonment will always be his biggest fear. It is why he treads so carefully these days. He’s so worried he’ll lose Bruce again and then the rest of us as a result.”_

It had been such a foolish thought for Richard to have though given the history between his father and Richard, he supposed the fear was well founded. But Damian knew Richard would always have Todd and himself, which meant it was a risk Damian was willing to take for him.

So he twisted the top off the vial, raised it in a silent cheers and swallowed the liquid when it slipped into his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The results of Damian having consumed the potion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry this is so late! I didn't post Friday because my husband decided to open multiple bottles of wine. Then we woke up the next day to two very sick gremlins. Not Covid, just colds. So sick kiddos have stolen all my time these past couple of days. 
> 
> BUT
> 
> Here is is. I hope you enjoy. I had a hard time really delving into young!Damian's mind but from here on out, it'll be much easier. And in full disclosure, this is hardly edited. It's been a long few days and my brain is fried. I'll read over it in the morning most likely. 
> 
> Next chapter will still be posted on Friday. Hopefully.

Frowning at the cloaks the tailor slipped over his shoulders, Damian wondered why exactly he had to wear all these uncomfortable garments for his uncle’s wedding. He had been to banquets and fancy parties before, but he had never had to wear all these heavy layers that were stiff and thick. 

“Honestly, Your Highness, they cannot be that unfortunate,” the tailor teased as he adjusted some of the gold edging on the outer cloak. “Your father made much the same face when he attended his first wedding as the Crowned Prince. So much of him in you.” Damian looked at the man through the looking glass and considered him. 

“Stu, these look perfect,” Damian looked up to see his father walking into the room, dressed in his own ceremonial garbs. “Are they the same design as the ones you made me for my first?” The king walked over to stand in front of Damian, smiling down at the younger before looking at the tailor.

Stu waved a hand but bowed his head in the expected respectful manner as he continued to work on a piece. “They are actually your old garments. Your father brought them to me and said you would like that particular sentimentality.” Watching his father’s smile turn from friendly to something the five-year-old wasn’t quite sure how to label, Damian frowned.

“He’s not wrong,” his father said softly, looking back to Damian. “But something tells me that you are enjoying them about as much as I did at your age.” His father chuckled as he brushed a hand through the raven locks on his head before resting the hand on his shoulder.

“Yes well, he is his father’s son.” The king laughed but kept his eyes on Damian. “I am almost finished. The Queen was quite insistent that I work as quickly as possible. But these old bones can only move so quickly these days.” The smile on his father’s face faltered slightly at the mention of his mother but was quickly put back into place.

“She is a particular woman.”

The old tailor simply hummed and continued to work, but Damian kept a close eye on his father. Though he was only five, he could tell when there were things being unsaid. Ser Jason had started showing him how to watch people to read more than just what their words told them. And his father always said much more with his expression and body then he did with his words, he was coming to find. But that didn’t mean he understood any of it yet.

“Do you understand your role today, son?” His father turned his full attention back to Damian, and the younger nodded. His mother had drilled it into her, demanding nothing but perfection in his memory of what he was supposed to do.

Straightening his spine and lifting his chin, he looked up at his father. “Mother made sure I knew what to do. She… _impressed_ upon me the importance of my role.”

“Did she?” His father’s voice sounded odd. “And what did your mother have to say about the possibility of making a mistake?”

“To not to.”

“Of course she did,” his father said, but Damian just furrowed his brows. He didn’t understand why his father suddenly looked angry. Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? The hand that had been resting on his shoulder fell away and his father took a step back, smoothing down the front of his robes while taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

“Father?”

His father watched him for a moment before answering, his tone controlled but it didn’t match the look in his eyes. “Your uncle is glad to have you carry his hand fasting box for him. He will be happy with your performance no matter what mistakes might be made. Anyone who tells you differently will have to deal with me.”

“Those sound like fighting words, My King,” an amused voice sounded from the door and Damian’s frown turned to a smile at the sight of Ser Jason leaning against the wall, arms crossed over the rich red of his cloaks. “Should you be teaching a five-year-old such things?”

“Oh please,” Stu sounded, drawing Damian’s gaze. “I have been around long enough to know he is this way because of you.” Ser Jason let out a laugh and Damian could hear his father chuckling, but Damian’s attention was on the man at his feet. “Now, I believe I am done. Does it have your approval, Your Majesty?”

“Impeccable as always. But Stu _honestly_ , when will you just call me Richard? You’re practically family.” The older man stood and brushed himself off before looking over at the king. “Don’t give me that look. You have never stood upon propriety before. Least of all with me.”

“Yes well, you have always been your own force. Perhaps His Highness will feel differently.”

“You mean perhaps he’s being influenced differently than his father.”

“ _Jason_.” 

“Sorry, My King.” Damian looked between the three men and tried to figure out what exactly they were talking about, but none of it made any sense to him. He felt like these kinds of conversations happened a lot around him. About him. “I did come here with a purpose. His former Majesty is gathering everyone for the ceremony and requested I collect the two of you. Appears you finished just in the nick of time, Stu.”

The older man chuckled as he went about packing his tools away. Damian looked at his father and waited for his approval before he moved. “You can step down, my son. Stu, you have done a marvelous job as always. You will be at the ceremony and banquet, yes?”

“I will. I will never miss an opportunity to see my hard work being admired.”

“Cheeky old man,” Ser Jason joked as he moved further into the room and over to the king. Damian noticed Stu didn’t bat an eye at the kiss the two men shared as he gathered his things. But he also knew his father and Ser Jason only ever did this around certain people. Never anyone who wasn’t close to the family. And never his mother. “We should get you both to the carriages. I am sure Hood is there waiting for me as well.”

“And Mother?”

He didn’t notice the flinch in his father or the tightened grip on Ser Jason’s waist. “Yes, I am certain your mother is there waiting for us as well.” His father stepped away from Ser Jason and picked up an object on the table where Stu had been keeping his tools. He made his way over to where Damian still stood on the stool, holding up the crown that was specifically for the Heir Apparent and Damian scrunched his nose at it. He hated the crown, but he knew at certain occasions he was required to wear it. The royal wedding between his uncle and the Brother of the King of Kent was one of those.

“It’s so heavy,” he muttered, standing still as his father placed it upon his head and adjusted it so it sat properly.

“Just wait until you have to wear the one your father has to wear,” Ser Jason teased, holding out the Sovereign’s crown to his father, who rolled his eyes as he bowed his head so the other man could place it on his head. Damian could only remember a handful of moments when his father wore anything more than a simple crown. “But if it doesn’t suite the two of you perfectly.”

Damian watched the two men stare at each other for a moment before he carefully got down from the stool and looked up at them. “Why do you not have a crown, Ser Jason? All the high-ranking Knights have them.”

“I am not a knight, Little Prince. I am my own entity and we do not have to subject ourselves to the frivolity of a crown.” Ser Jason looked down at Damian and held his hand out for the boy to take, which he did immediately. “Now, let us away before His former Majesty comes looking for you both.”

“Yes, what a shame it would be to stress Father more than he already has been. You’d think he was still king and having to make sure all the details were in place,” Damian listened to his father speak as they walked out of the room even though it made little sense to him, his hand still gripped in Ser Jason’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I may be a king, but he is my son. And I will not ignore him for my duties. I will not have him think I care for others more than I care for my own child.” Damian frowned as he hid just around the corner from where his father was speaking to a high-ranking member of the Council. He didn’t need to hear the start of the conversation to know that this was about the appearance he had made earlier when the Council had been in session. He hadn’t known and wouldn’t have barged in if he had, but once he had come in his father had insisted on hearing what he had come in for.

Like he always did, and Damian never gave much thought to.

“What are you doing, Little Prince?” Damian flinched when a voice sounded behind him. Turning, he found Ser Jason standing with a knowing smile on his lips and an amused glint in his eyes. “We should work on your awareness regarding your surroundings.”

Sighing, the seven-year-old turned his back completely to what he had been watching and looked up at the man who was, for all intents and purposes, a second father to him. “I made a mistake today,” he admitted, looking down at the ground. Ser Jason said nothing, and Damian peeked up at the man through his lashes. The frown that was present confused him.

“Did your father say you made a mistake?” Damian shook his head and looked back down. “Did he tell you that you did anything wrong? Treat you as though you had?”

He thought back to the moment he had rushed into the room and how his father had looked at him. He hadn’t looked thrilled, but he had looked happy at the very least. He remembered how he had heard muttering coming from the men and women at the table but how his father had ignored them and let Damian climb into his lap and tell him about the jump he had made on his horse earlier.

“No,” Damian admitted, scuffing his boot on the ground. “But…” Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned at the corner that hid his father and the Councilmember.

“But nothing, Little Prince,” Ser Jason said, kneeling to get eyelevel with him. Damian looked at the older man, still feeling ashamed for upsetting the Council and forcing his father to have to speak up. “Come with me, I’ll tell you a story.” Ser Jason stood and held his hand out for Damian to take while they walked.

Hesitating just a moment, with one last backward glance, Damian slipped his smaller hand into the much larger one. He remained silent as they walked away from where his father had been and toward the kitchens.

“When you were born your father was concerned,” Ser Jason started as they got far enough away from his father, so they would not be overheard. “Your grandmother, Talia, was not the warmest of mothers. She was strict and enforced many rules on your father and uncle. She wanted them to be the very best and she thought that meant not treating them as her children, but as her pupils. Even though Prince Timothy was just a toddler and your father not much older. Your grandfather, though kinder and more understanding, took his duty as king very seriously when he was crowned after your father was born.”

Having heard stories about his grandmother from his father, what Ser Jason was telling him made sense. And he knew his grandfather well enough to know how important duty was to him. But he didn’t understand what this had to do with what had happened today. Or why his father had been concerned when he had been born.

“He told me he was worried you would not know just how loved you were. That you might grow up the way he had because your mother was not going to be…very attentive. He worried he would be like his own father.” Damian looked up at the man and stopped walking, furrowing his brows at that revelation. Ser Jason laughed and gave his hand a tug so they could resume walking. “That face you’re making just supports what I had told him. There was no way that your father would do anything other than love you openly.”

Damian considered this information as he was led into the kitchens and then lifted onto one of the stools he and Ser Jason always sat on while indulging in a snack. He missed the way the cook rolled her eyes as Ser Jason gave her his bright smile. He didn’t see the other kitchen workers chuckling as the head cook went to get them a snack. All he could focus on was the fact that his father, the one person he had never doubted cared deeply for him, had worried Damian wouldn’t know love.

“Ser Jason?” Damian looked over at the man as he took his usual seat. The man raised a dark brow and waited for Damian to continue. “Did I get Father in trouble today?” Ser Jason looked startled for a moment before laughing loudly. Glancing around, Damian noticed the entire kitchen staff stopped to watch the pair fondly for a moment before going back to their tasks.

“Little Prince,” Ser Jason gasped, still chuckling, “your father gets himself in trouble with the Council all the time, and he will always admit when he is wrong. But on this? On this he will never admit any faults. Because loving you? Being your father first and foremost? That is not a fault.” Relaxing a little onto his stool, Damian sighed. He was glad to hear his father was not in trouble because of him. 

Smiling at the cook who set a plate in front of them, Damian thanked her before turning that smile onto the man next to him. He wasn’t at all surprised to find that familiar smile on Ser Jason’s face, the one Damian knew was just for him and his father. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood ramrod straight at the top of the stairs, next to his mother who almost looked bored as they waited for the caravan of carriages and horses made their way onto the castle grounds to the main gates. He remained still because it was expected of it, but he really wanted to move. He wanted to adjust the cape he wore to keep the chill away. He wanted to shift the crown on his head, the one he hated so much more than the basic one he was allowed for events that were not quite as formal.

But his Uncle Timothy and the Duke of Kent visiting was apparently a formal affair. And one he knew his father was looking forward to.

So his mother had made it clear that he was expected to behave as a Wayne would and how an Heir Apparent should. Which meant he remained still and silent, waiting for the carriage in the middle of the entourage to stop and the two men to step out. He watched his father rush forward to hug his uncle and then exchange a handshake with his husband.

“Damian, come!” His father called. Glancing up at his mother, she gave him a stern and expectant look before nodding. Only then did he make his way down the steps to greet the visitors.

“Nephew,” his uncle greeted reaching out for a hug and though he knew he would hear about it from his mother later, Damian sunk into the affection. “You have grown so much! You will be towering over me and your father in no time.” Damian smiled up at the man and nodded. “You remember Kon.” The other man looked away from the king and gave Damian a smile, which the younger returned easily. “Surely you also remember King Clark’s son, Jon?” The young man stood next to Duke Kon, smiling over at Damian as well.

“I do. Hello, Your Highness,” Damian greeted formally. The other prince gave a small wave but remained where he stood. “We have missed you, Uncle. Father was so pleased to get your letter that you and the Duke would be coming as the representatives for the Kingdom of Metropolis for the Treaty of Justice renewal.”

The older man laughed and settled a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “So formal for an eight-year-old. Are you certain you didn’t age ten years since I’ve been gone?” Ducking his head, Damian felt a blush rise on his cheeks.

“Ah that would be his mother’s doing,” he heard his father comment. He lifted his head to look at his father but caught the eye of Prince Jon instead. He had an almost curious look on his face. “Come, let us go inside and allow the staff to help your men and women unpack and get settled. Alfred had arranged everything according to the list you sent with your letter. Has anything changed, Brother?”

“No, all should still be accurate. Will Father be joining us?” Damian watched the three older men walk ahead while he waited for Prince Jon to fall into step with him.

“Was it a hard journey, Your Highness?” 

“Please call me Jon,” the boy said with his bright smile. It made Damian respond with a smile of his own, almost against his will. But he quickly glanced over where his mother had been standing earlier and thankfully found the spot empty. If she had gone back inside, then that meant he was free to do as he pleased until dinner.

“You may call me Damian,” he returned the sentiment. The other prince seemed to brighten even more at the words and it reminded Damian so much of his own father’s disposition. “Do you need to rest before dinner? Or perhaps require anything I can get?”

Jon shook his head and looked around the area as they reached the top of the stairs. “Is the Dragon Slayer around? Last time we came he promised to show me some of his souvenirs from his adventures. I would very much like to see that.”

“I believe Ser Jason is training with the knights,” Damian said, glancing toward the training grounds. He wasn’t usually supposed to interrupt the training regimes, but he supposed Jason wouldn’t be too upset this once. “Let us go this way. It is quicker to go around instead of traveling through the castle,” he gestured, leading Jon back down the steps.

The pair walked for a few moments in silence before Jon spoke up. “How exciting to have a Dragon Slayer in your kingdom! I have read every tome in our library back home about their history and great victories. And their heartbreaking defeats. Ser Todd was so interesting when we were here for the wedding.” Damian watched Jon talk out of the corner of his eye as he led the other boy toward the training grounds, enraptured with his excitement. It was almost contagious.

It would have been contagious if he hadn’t had to worry about his mother’s ever watchful eye.

“Ser Jason is a noble man. The strongest of his line,” Damian agreed as they rounded one of the walls into shortcut that would take them out to the training field. Jon practically bounced as they walked and Damian felt himself smiling at his antics. “He promised me a scale one day. I hope on his next venture he will be successful in retrieving one for me.”

“How brave! I read the dragons burst into flames when they have been slain.”

Damian nodded. “They do. That is why he has not gotten one for me yet. It is a difficult task and one must be especially quick. But Ser Jason said he is sure he should be able to get one.” Jon’s eyes widened and Damian felt his chest swell with pride for knowing Ser Jason well enough to impress him. “He is my father’s closest confidant, and he tells me of his travels frequently. I bet he would be happy to tell you of some of them,” Damian offered just as they stepped out onto the edge of the training fields.

With a glance around at the men staggered throughout the fields, working through drills, Damian caught sight of the familiar face. With a tilt of his head, he gestured for Jon to follow him through the ranks toward Ser Jason.

“Little Prince,” he was greeted as soon as Ser Jason noticed him. His smile was familiar but shifted to something more formal when his eyes shifted to Jon. “Prince Jon, how good to see you again.” He gave the prince a customary bow before glancing between the pair. “To what do I owe this interruption?” And though Damian could see the contrite look on Jon’s face, he simply smiled at the man he considered a second father.

“Jon asked after you,” he offered as an explanation. The Slayer nodded and looked over at the visiting prince.

“I promised you a chance to view some of my trophies,” Ser Jason confirmed, and Jon lit up, bouncing in excitement. “I do need to finish training, but I promise I will escort you over to the display rooms as soon as we break.” The older man smiled over at Damian and without saying anything, Damian knew what was being asked of him. 

Turning to Jon, who had not lost the excitement on his face, Damian pointed to a space behind him. “Let us wait over there, Jon,” he instructed. “Are you hungry or thirsty? My grandfather’s manservant always makes sure to provide the soldiers and their spectators with refreshments.” The other boy bounced over to where Damian directed him and glanced over the options, picking a few small bites before he went back to watching the men and women on the grounds. 

Passing the time chatting about how things had been in the years since they had last seen each other, Damian allowed Jon to ramble on about the state of his country and how they have faired so much better since Damian’s uncle had come to live in their kingdom. He listened while Jon talked about the lessons his father had started introducing him to, things that would help him in running the kingdom one day and Damian confirmed his own father had been doing much the same.

“Father loves to speak of our friendship,” Jon told him as the two watched the soldiers finish for the day and begin clearing from the field. “We have many other kingdoms come for treaties or international relations, but he always remains firm that his favorite is with Gotham. I hope we can continue that once we are crowned.”

“Of course we can,” Damian nodded, serious. “Our kingdoms have been allies far too long to change that when we rule.” Damian glanced over at Jon and found the prince watching him closely. “What is it?”

“I did not mean politically. Father holds his friendship with your grandfather and father very highly. I would like to do the same.”

Damian opened his mouth to reply but found he didn’t quite know what to say. Friendship wasn’t something he had ever really experienced, his mother keeping him separate from anyone his own age outside of visiting royalty. He knew there were a few kids living in the castle, offspring of servants, but he had never been allowed to interact. He wasn’t sure he knew how to be a friend. But he wanted to try.

“I would like that.” Jon’s smile told him he had said the right thing. All Damian could do was smile back.

“Now,” Ser Jason interrupted as he walked over, wrapping an arm around each boy. “I do believe I have some boasting to do. Shall we?” He glanced between the two and Damian allowed Jon to answer.

“Yes please!” The older man chuckled and guided the pair toward the castle entrance that would lead to the hall where the all of the trophies the Dragon Slayers collected were displayed. “Damian told me you are to try and get him a scale! How frighteningly fast you must be for…” Damian let Jon’s chatter fade to background noise as he spotted his mother standing in one of the upper windows, watching the trio with narrowed eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite place.

Whatever it was, it made him want to shrink back and hide from it. But as they got closer to being almost directly under her, he noticed it wasn’t the three of them she was watching, but Ser Jason alone.

And though he couldn’t place the exact emotion, his instincts screamed danger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hurrying down the hall, Damian wove in and out of the gathered staff members that had lined up to say goodbye to his uncle, the Duke, and Prince. 

He was late.

His mother had insisted he go back and change into more formal cloaks for the send off and it had thrown off everything. Especially since his manservant had already left and he had had to figure it out all on his own. He had gained fresh respect for the man who had been helping him for years now.

“Your Highness!” A familiar voice called, causing Damian to stop and spin. “What happened to the cloaks you were already wearing?! You are all a mess.” His manservant rushed up to him and immediately started straightening his layers. 

“Mother insisted,” was all he could say in response. The man tutted and continued to fix him. Finally, after straightening his crown, the man stepped back and nodded. 

“Now rush along, My Prince. The family is already waiting.” Nodding and breathing a quick thank you, Damian continued hurrying along the hallway. He emerged from the castle to find his mother at the top of the steps, standing regally as always, but the rest of the family down near the waiting carriages. 

Taking a deep breath, Damian slowed his gait and made his way to his mother, saying nothing at her silent assessment before heading down the stairs.

“There you are, Son!” His father smiled brightly when he caught sight of Damian, waving him over. “We were just wondering what was keeping you.” Damian smiled tentatively, glancing back at his mother’s cool gaze before looking back at his father. He didn’t miss the narrowing of his father’s eyes at the motion of looking at his mother, but it was gone before he could question it.

“I had a mishap with my cloaks,” was all he offered. Taking the blame was the safest bet. “But I am glad to not miss the sendoff. Uncle,” he stepped forward and accepted a hug from his uncle and then the Duke, who had had come to also think of as an uncle over the last few weeks.

His uncle wrapped an arm around his shoulders after the Duke released him and looked down on him. “We will arrange to have you come stay with us soon, yes?” Damian nodded, smiling brightly. “I will write you father about it soon. You must come in the Spring before the heat settles. It is the best season out there and there will be much to show you.”

“I look forward to it, Uncle.”

“Me too!” Prince Jon chimed in as he rushed over from where he had been chatting with Ser Jason by the horses pulling the carriage. “We will have the best time!” Damian smiled at the other boy and nodded. And even though he didn’t want his mother to know he had formed such a good bond with the other prince, he easily accepted the hug from the older boy. “Don’t forget to write. We will exchange letters, yes?”

Pulling back, Damian’s smile remained. “Yes.” Jon bounced before glancing back at the carriage.

“Well, we must be off,” Uncle Timothy spoke up, moving over to his father’s side. “Brother, thank you for welcoming me home. I have missed our time together. You must come with Damian to visit.”

His father chuckled and wrapped his uncle in a warm hug that Damian knew all too well. “I shall see if I can get Father to run the country again so that I might come visit.” Damian watched the pair laugh before parting. His father gave the Duke a hug before moving to stand with Damian. “Prince Jon, please send my well wishes to your father and mother. It was wonderful to have you join us.”

The boy smiled brightly and accepted the offered hug before he waved and bounded toward the carriages, slipping in behind his uncles. Damian waved with his father when the horses began moving forward as Ser Jason backed away and gave wave of his own.

“Well, My King,” the older man sighed as he stopped next to the king. When he didn’t say anything more, Damian glanced over at the slayer and noticed the two men looking at each other. The look on both their faces was familiar, but painful. Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint the meaning of. But it was one he had seen plenty of times over the past eight years.

“Yes, My Slayer.” The two nodded at each other before glancing down at Damian, confusing him further. “Come, Son. Let us head to my study and I shall show you what happens now that the assembly has away, and we have the treaties to send out.”

Nodding his head, Damian turned and walked with his father, Ser Jason following closely behind them. He didn’t look to see if his mother was still standing at the top of the stairs because he knew she wouldn’t be. Not once the sake of appearances was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was quiet outside of the scratch of his quill on parchment and the rustling of papers as his mother read through letters sent from her homeland. He could tell just by the sound of the papers that whatever was written on their surface was not what she had wanted to read. So rarely did his mother bother to show much in the way of emotion around him, so when she slipped up and let some shine through it always intrigued him.

Glancing at the woman out of the corner of his eye, Damian took in her rigid posture as she got up and paced the room while continuing to read whatever had been written to her.

“Mother?” He called out when he noticed her crumple up one of the pages in her hand. His mother stopped walking and turned to look at him, looking like she had forgotten Damian had been in the room with her all this time. “Is everything okay?” The woman might not ever really show she cared about him outside of his role in the family, but she was still his mother.

Some part of her had to care, right?

“Have you finished your work for the day?” 

“No, Mother,” he answered truthfully, glancing down at the page in front of him. Yes, he was nearly done, but it wouldn’t do to lie to her. “I have two more problems to solve before I am finished.”

“Then you need not concern yourself with me, do you?” Instead of speaking, Damian simply shook his head and looked back down to his work. He watched her resume her pacing out of the corner of his eye as he went back to working on the problems, trying not to give himself away. But this work he could do in his sleep and her reactions were just too curious to not want to know what news she had received. 

A heavy-handed knock came to the door and drew both of their attention. “His Majesty King Richard,” the guard at the door of the study announced as he pushed open the doors and stepped aside. Sitting straighter, Damian smiled as his father swept into the room with a smile of his own. 

“Damian, there you are,” his father spoke as he made his way over to the table he had his work spread out on. “The Council meeting is in a short while and you are to be in attendance today. Have you finished your work for the day?” The older man picked up a parchment and glanced over the figures that were worked out on it. “These are very good.” 

“I am finishing my last right now, Father,” Damian told him, and he watched his father nod before picking up another stack of parchments to look over.

He tried not to react when his mother made her way over and kept his eyes on the final problem. “I was not made aware he was to be in Council today. I have his afternoon planned already.” The tone of her voice made Damian cringe because he knew his father was one of the very few people who she was allowed to speak to however she pleased. Ser Jason had explained the situation to him a few years ago, but he only really came to understand recently.

“Then you shall have to cancel whatever it is you have prepared.” His father’s voice gave no room for argument. At least that would have been true if he had been speaking to anyone other than his mother.

“I will do no such thing! I am his mother and therefore oversee his schooling.”

Looking up, Damian saw steel in his father’s eyes, and it made him want to cringe. It was rare to see King Richard mad about anything. Even when things were really bad, Damian could only count on one hand the number of times he had seen his father truly mad. Most of those times were directed at someone who had done wrong to another person.

“And I am his father and king, and I will have him join me in Council today. That is final. Come, Damian.” His father set down the parchments he was holding and gestured for Damian to stand. And though his mother turned angry, accusing eyes on him, Damian did as his father asked. He stood and smoothed out his clothing before gathering his work and cleaning the space. “We can deposit these things in your rooms on our way to the meeting.”

“Yes, Father,” he agreed, glancing between his parents who were back to staring at each other with fire in their eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You cannot just storm in whenever it pleases you and demand your way!” Damian froze in mid-reach of the door to his father’s study, hearing his mother’s angry voice. “He is my son too! You have already poisoned him against me and stolen his love from me, giving it to that….to _that man_! I will not have you steal his very presence from me too!”

“You are being dramatic, Catalina. I have stolen nothing. Your lack of warmth and care has caused him to seek that comfort elsewhere.” Where his mother sounded angry, his father sounded controlled. He could practically see them.

If he had to guess, his father was probably seated at his desk and his mother in front of it with her palms resting on the rich oak. He had known their argument from earlier was far from over, but he hadn’t expected it to be brought back up so quickly.

“Do not presume to tell me how to care for my own child.”

“And do not presume to tell me what I, as his father and king, can and cannot do. He is my son. He is the Crowned Prince of Gotham. His schooling is important, but he is ten years old and has responsibilities he needs to start learning. I was much younger than him when my own responsibilities began. And that work you have him doing is a joke.” There was a pause and Damian heard his mother scoff before the sound of papers being dropped onto the desk sounded. “He could do these in his sleep. He is brilliant and you are having him do work below him. If you cannot be trusted to challenge him then I will have to find someone to take your place.”

Damian’s eyes widened at the threat because he was no fool. If his mother didn’t handle his schooling, then she had no tether to this family. She had no role and no purpose to even be there.

“You would threaten my place when you owe me everything?”

“I do not owe you a single thing, Catalina. In fact, it is you who owes me. It is you who was headed for the Church of Ra’s.” Damian shuddered at the statement, knowing the cruelties of his grandmother’s home country and where maidens were forced into forever worship of King Ra’s when they reached a certain age and were unmarried. A woman facing that would likely be desperate. “The sooner you realize that the sooner we can all be much happier. You are nothing to me. You have always been nothing to me. Just a contract. You knew that long before you came to Gotham. Do not fool yourself into thinking you will ever be anything more.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh caused him to step back and consider storming into the room. He knew there was no way his father had hit his mother and he did not like the emotion the thought of his mother hitting his father evoked in him.

“Damian?” Looking over to see his grandfather standing just down the hallways, he straightened his spine and clenched his fists. “Is everything all right?” 

With one last glance at the closed door of his father’s study, Damian made his way over to his grandfather. “I was going to speak with Father regarding the invitation to visit Uncle Timothy but it seems he is in a conversation with Mother.” His grandfather regarded him closely, looking toward the room that held his parents before resting his blue gaze back on Damian. “I suppose I can ask him at supper.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be a fine time,” the older man agreed, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder and guiding him down the hall. “Your father was telling me of your schooling the other day. He was quite impressed with how far you have advanced and I think it might be time…” Damian half listened to his grandfather as they walked, casting one last glance over his shoulder toward his father’s study before they rounded a corner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian spends some time away from Gotham and learns a few things for himself and his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no new chapter next week! So sorry!! I have waaaaaaaay too much to do before Christmas, I just don't see myself being able to sit and get things done. 
> 
> But, I might be planning to post twice the following week. We'll see. My oldest gremlin's birthday is New Year's day so it's a busy two weeks. I will post on NYD though, so you'll at least get one.
> 
> This chapter is heavy on Damian, Jason, and Jon. And is the lead up to what Catalina does to Jason and his impending death. Next chapter is heavy on the sad. In fact, the next two or three will be heavy on the sad.
> 
> Edited only a little, fair warning. Just wanted to be sure I could get it up tonight. Will glance over it after I put the gremlins to bed.

Leaning forward to look out the window of the carriage, Damian took in the large fields of what he assumed were crops, that paved the way up to the main city of Metropolis. He remembered Jon writing about how he and his father would go down and help with the harvest because his father believed that even a king should know how to reap a field. 

Damian also remembered being fascinated with the idea. When he had inquired about it to his own father, the man had laughed and said that it sounded exactly like something King Clark would say. He also said that if Damian ever wanted to experience that for himself, he was sure one of their local farmers would be more than happy to teach him. He saved the idea for a later date because he was sure his mother would have many words to say about ‘lowering himself to peasant standards’ and the eleven-year-old was tired of the lectures.

“What do you think Little Prince?” Damian glanced over at Ser Jason, who had accompanied him on his journey at his father’s request. “Their kingdom is different from our own, but I think you’ll find they are a people who love their king just as much as Gotham loves your father.”

Nodding his head, he looked back out the window. “Father said the people are kinder, warmer.” Ser Jason hummed and Damian didn’t bother looking back to him. “I am looking forward to a different perspective when it comes to ruling a kingdom. King Clark is so different from Father and Grandfather.”

“He is,” Ser Jason agreed. “Your father has learned much from his friendship with the King of Metropolis, but the same could be said the other way. If you are not willing to learn from others, then you have no business ruling over anyone.”

“Why is that?”

He leaned back into his seat as he turned green eyes onto the Dragon Slayer, watching the other man’s relaxed posture across from him. It had been a long journey, but Damian had noticed the other man relax the further they got away from Gotham despite who they were both leaving behind.

“A king should be strong, and he should be smart,” Ser Jason gave him a look, “but he should also be kind and malleable. No one man is infallible. No one man has all the answers. And the man who thinks he knows all he needs to know is someone who will demand allegiance over earning it.” And Damian didn’t need to know much about ruling to know that anyone who demanded their citizens follow them rarely was an adored ruler.

“How to you stop from becoming that person?” He kept his eyes on Ser Jason while the other man considered him carefully. Damian wondered what was going through his mind, but Ser Jason had always been good at protecting his thoughts from his eyes. Unlike a lot of people.

“I suppose you surround yourself with people who would be willing to tell you when you are making a mistake,” Ser Jason shrugged. “And you always make sure you’re willing to admit when you’ve actually made one.”

Damian considered the words and nodded. It made sense. His grandfather had struggled with admitting when he was wrong. It had been an issue with his council and even some of the citizens of Gotham. His father didn’t seem to suffer from that same issue. If anything, from what he had seen, the man accepted faults that were not his to accept. But how did you find a balance that two of the greatest men he had ever known couldn’t seem to find?

“Little Prince, we have many years to be sure that you know how to be better than your grandfather and left self-sacrificing than your father.” Damian wasn’t sure what to say to that, but was granted a pardon when Ser Jason leaned forward and looked out the window. “Ah, we are here.” 

Allowing his gaze to look out the window, Damian saw as they passed the walls of the city and headed toward the center where the castle was nestled. When he had studied the layout of the kingdom, Damian had been surprised that they had built the city around the castle. But then his father had informed him that the castle used to be a religious center point. But then the kingdom had discovered that the religious leaders had been sacrificing to their “gods” and the citizens had overthrown the establishment. Once the religious leaders had been dealt with, the citizens voted to make the building the home of the king instead. It brought new light to the mindset of those living in Metropolis.

Once they pulled up to the castle itself, Damian settled back into his seat and waited. He could see King Clark’s imposing figure waiting for them, along with the other members of the royal family. It made him a little nervous to be on their terms now, but at least he had Ser Jason with him.

Once everything had come to a stop, Ser Jason moved closer to the door so he could exit first when the footman came to open the door, allowing him to survey the conditions before Damian followed. Once Damian’s feet were on the ground, he was immediately enclosed in a familiar pair of arms.

“Jon, my boy,” he could hear King Clark laughing. “Let His Highness at least get both feet on the ground.” Jon was suddenly being pulled away and Damian face to face with him and the king who had tugged his son away. “Hello Ser Todd, Prince Damian. Welcome to Metropolis. Again, for you I suppose Ser Todd.” 

“Your Majesty,” Ser Jason gave a bow of respect. “And Your Highness, good to see your exuberance again.” Ser Jason chuckled at the fourteen-year-old’s enthusiastic greeting.

“Thank you for having us, Your Majesty,” Damian greeted the older man with a bow of his own before turning a smile onto Jon and allowing it to grow when Jon’s did as well. “Your Highness, good to see you again. And Your Majesty,” he nodded to the woman who came up behind Jon. He could see Duke Kon and his uncle a few feet back, but he gave the royal couple his immediate attention because tradition called for it.

“Please, no need to be so formal here. I know your father would not stand upon ceremony, so neither should you.” Damian nodded at the king before looking around the trio to see his uncle. “Ah yes, I am sure you have been looking forward to seeing your uncle.”

Without having to be told, Damian moved forward to reach his uncle who met him halfway. “Nephew,” his uncle greeted him, hugging him tightly for a moment before releasing him so Damian could turn and hug his uncle by marriage. “We’re so glad you’re here. How was the ride?”

“Long, but comfortable,” Damian responded when he released the Duke and looked over at his uncle. “I have a few things from home for you that Father said you would appreciate.” He watched his uncle’s gaze turn curious before he looked over at Ser Jason and smiled brightly. 

“Ser Todd,” he greeted formally, but laughed when the slayer picked him up in a tight hug before putting him back on his feet and shaking the hand of his husband. “My brother was unable to break away, then?”

“Unfortunately not,” Ser Jason responded with a frown. Damian knew that his mother had something to do with the fact that his father couldn’t join them, but he wasn’t aware as to what it was. “But he sent me in his place. Is that not just as good? Am I not enough for you, Duke Timothy?” His uncle chuckled and Ser Jason pressed a hand to his chest as though he were offended.

“Damian, I’ll show you where you’re staying,” Jon slipped in-between Damian and Ser Jason, reaching for the younger’s hand. “You can talk to the grown-ups later.”

“No need to lie about it, Nephew,” the duke laughed. “We all know you just want your friend to yourself. It’s quite all right.” The five adults all laughed as the Jon huffed and tugged Damian away from them toward the entrance of the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think you will make a good king?” 

The question was surprising mostly because it was coming from Jon and not King Clark, but also because rarely did people ask about his future role in the kingdom. He didn’t like to think too much about taking over his father’s throne, not sure he would ever be ready for that. His father was such a beloved man and his mother made it clear she expected him to be better than his father. But how did you best that?

“I hope to make my father proud,” was all he could think of to say. He looked up from the game sitting on the floor between him and Jon, considering the teen across from him. “My mother has so many expectations, but Father just wants me to be who I am. He does not tell me to be one way or another.”

He watched Jon hum before looking down at the game and making his move. “My father is much the same. He tells me what he would do, but then tells me that I must make decisions on what I think is best. Sometimes I am not certain what that means.”

Damian could sympathize with that. 

His father was such a good man, a good king. He was the ultimate standard to live up to and while Damian wanted nothing more than to do just that, he also knew his father didn’t want that of him. He didn’t want Damian to be just like him. 

“When our fathers are such great men, it is hard to not want to be just like them,” Damian admitted as he watched Jon move his pieces. “But if we are just like them, then who are we really?” He glanced up at Jon and found the older boy nodded, looking at a spot somewhere behind Damian. 

“I likely have many years before I am seated on the throne,” Jon told him. Damian knew Metropolis allowed their king to rule until he felt unfit or he passed, unlike Gotham where an heir took the throne when they reached the age of 25. Damian would likely be king before Jon, should King Clark’s health hold out and peace remain. “But I think about whether or not I want the crown frequently. I know I am my father’s sole heir, but Uncle Kon could easily take the throne if I didn’t want it.”

“And what would your father say if you decided that being king was not what you wanted?”

“I do not know for certain. It is only a passing thought, nothing to question just yet.” But Damian felt like perhaps it was something that should be questioned. Why continue with all the lessons and training if ultimately you didn’t want to take the crown? He had never considered what it would be like to abdicate. Between his mother’s expectations and the desire to be just like his father, he’s not sure he ever could.

“What would you do?”

“Hmm?”

“If you decided to drop your claim to the throne, what would you do?” Damian questioned, watching Jon closely. The fourteen-year-old shrugged and looked at Damian but remained silent. “I was basically born to take the throne. My parents do not love each other the way your parents do. My father…he loves someone he can never marry, and my mother came to him knowing, but hoping for more. Her only purpose was to provide him an heir, me.” He wasn’t sure where was taking this, but it felt like it had to mean something. 

“Just because the circumstances were less than ideal, does not mean you were only wanted for that purpose,” Jon commented. Damian supposed he was right, but if he didn’t become king, what was the point of all of it? “Your father would love you no matter what you decided. But I know you well enough to know you will be King of Gotham when you turn 25 and your father will be so proud.”

“And you?”

“We shall have to see, won’t we?”

Damian wanted to answer, but there was something in his tone that made him pause and just observe. The look on his face was thoughtful, considering. It was unnerving and Damian wasn’t sure how to take it. He had seen a look like that on his father’s face before when looking at Ser Todd, but he wasn’t sure that was really comparable when he thought about it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was crisp as he walked the fields with Ser Jason on one side and Jon on the other. The pair spoke over his head about some adventure Ser Jason had been on since the last visit Jon had made to Gotham, but Damian had long stopped listening. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, it was just that the surrounding areas interested him _more_.

“Do you hear that?” Ser Jason’s question broke through Damian’s musings and pulled the younger man to look at him. Furrowing his brows, Damian tried to listen for whatever it was the older man had heard but all he could pick up was the rustling sound of the wheat in the breeze.

But then there was a whimpering sound.

“There,” Damian said, turning and hurrying toward the sound. The other two called out to him, but he knew they were following just by the sound of the wheat stalks moving. His green eyes scanned the direction the whimper had come from as he rushed toward it, looking for anything that might have been making the noise. 

“Little Prince!” Ser Jason called out in warning just as Damian spotted the small black creature attempting to pull its leg out of a tangle of rope. The animal howled at the sight of them and backed away, baring its teeth at the perceived threat.

Damian held his hands up and approached slowly, shaking off Ser Jason’s hand when it landed on his shoulder.

“Damian, please.” He paused to look back at the older man, frowning at the concern he saw on his features. It was rare for the older man to use his first name so casually. “Let me try and get the pup free.” Looking back to the dog, Damian dropped his hands and stopped moving so the other man could carefully approach the dog.

Jon stood shoulder to shoulder with him and the pair watched the slayer carefully kneel down once he was close enough and held out a hand for the dog to sniff. The dog nosed at the offered hand before going back to trying to get its leg out.

“Let me help,” Ser Jason muttered, reaching slowly for the rope. He paused for only a moment when the dog let out a growl before he realized the man was trying to help. “How did this happen, hmm? You must have been dragging this rope for quite some way. It looks like it has caught on some roots here,” he called over his shoulder as he worked to loosen the knot.

The instant the dog’s leg was free, he backed away from the three of them but didn’t run off. Damian found it curious.

Moving forward, he knelt next to Ser Jason and watched the dog, locking eyes with the animal. “What kind of dog is he?” Damian questioned, shifting forward so he could get closer to it.

“Looks like a breed of hunting dog the villagers raise. I am not certain,” Jon called over to him. Damian hummed and stopped when he was within arms reach of the dog and just waited. “What are you doing, Damian?”

“He needs to be looked at. He could have hurt himself. And he certainly looks as though he needs a good meal,” Damian commented, still watching the dog as it began to inch over to him. “He could have run, but he didn’t. He is not afraid of us, but he needs reason to trust us.” He could hear movement behind him and assumed Ser Jason had stood and moved over to Jon’s side, but didn’t bother looking. He kept his gaze solely on the dog. Slowly, cautiously, Damian moved to hold his hand out for the dog to smell just as he had seen Ser Jason do and waited for the cold nose of the pup to connect with his palm.

“That’s a good pup,” he murmured as he allowed his hand to run over the head of the dog. “I shall call you Titus for now.”

“Saved.” Ser Jason’s voice sounded amused and Damian spared him a glance, finding a smirk on his face. “Fitting, Little Prince.” The words were said in jest, but Damian knew that look in his eyes. Pride. With a nod, Damian looked back to the pup and carefully moved to run his hand over the leg. 

“Can he walk? We can take him to the healer in the city. They should be able to tell us how Titus will fair.” When he was certain the leg was not damaged to the point of internal injury, Damian slowly stood and looked down at Titus.

“Come, Titus,” he commanded, walking toward the city walls where they had come from. He didn’t glance back to see if the dog would follow and waved for Jon and Ser Jason to join him. It was a few paces before the sound of paws hitting packed dirt sounded and the dog was slipping between his and Ser Jason’s legs.

“I’m not sure who will want to murder me more when we come home with Titus; your mother or grandfather,” Ser Jason joked as they made their way back to the city. 

“Not the king?”

“Oh no, Your Highness,” Ser Jason said seriously. “No, King Richard would murder me if I denied his son something he so clearly wants. Especially an innocent something.” Damian pursed his lips to keep from beaming at the idea of his father approving of his actions just now. He ignored the concern that wanted to bubble up with the thought that his mother was going to have a few choice words about it. He wasn’t going to think about it now. Not when he knew he would have his father in his corner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Honestly, Titus,” Damian sighed as the dog panted at the window of the carriage. Just three weeks after having found him and the dog had gone from skin and bone to healthy and growing quite quickly. King Clark had warned them that the breed was one that grew quite large, but Damian had waved it off and welcomed the thought. 

He wasn’t sure how Titus had come to be at that spot the day they found him, but Damian refused to believe it was anything other than fate.

Ser Jason reached over and scratched at the dog’s ears before settling back in his seat. “He knows home when he sees it. We are almost there. Are you happy to be returning?” Damian considered the question as he stared out the window Titus was still sticking his nose out of, watching the trees rush past them.

“I have missed most aspects of home,” he settled on. Though he loved Ser Jason as a father and knew he could trust him, he struggled to admit that he was not looking forward to being under his mother’s thumb once again. Queen Lois had been such a breath of fresh air. To see the way a mother could love her child, it had left Damian wanting something he knew would never be his. And though his father and Ser Jason loved him as parents should, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing out on something without the love of a mother.

“It is okay to be sad to be returning home, Little Prince,” Ser Jason spoke softly and Damian’s gaze dropped to his lap before looking over at the older man. His eyes were earnest and caring, but understanding as well. “I do not know what goes through the minds of others, but I do know your father understands much of what you’re dealing with.”

“But not completely.”

“No, perhaps not completely since Queen Talia was gone well before your father was your age, but from what I recall, she might have been more rigid than Catalina.” Damian didn’t know if that was possible, in all honestly, but he nodded anyway. He knew stories of the late queen and knew she was not who his grandfather had thought she was. His second wife, Selina, had not been very motherly but she was kind and she was loving. His father said he had found a friend and confidante in the former queen and it had been exactly what he had needed. 

“We’re here,” Damian chose to say instead of acknowledging the conversation any more, looking out the window and seeing the approaching city walls. They were finally home and he found himself getting nervous as to what would happen upon the revelation of Titus. “You won’t let them take him?”

His green eyes looked into Ser Jason’s turquoise ones and the other man nodded. “They will have to take me down before I allow you to be parted from Titus. You have my word on that, My Prince.” Damian saw the truth in his eyes and nodded. “Besides, I already wrote to your father weeks ago and told him about the pup. His reply came a few days before we left and spoke of his excitement to meet the newest Wayne.” Damian felt a smile spread on his face as he jumped forward and gave Ser Jason a hug in thanks.

 _“The Prince has returned!”_ Damian pulled away at the shouts from the crowd and leaned closer to the windows to see citizens starting to line the streets at their passing. He could hear various shouts of his name and greetings and it made a warm feeling settle in his chest. 

“You should lean out and wave,” Ser Jason instructed. Nodding, Damian did just that and was rewarded with more cheers and calls of his name. “The people already love you. You do not realize how much of your father you have in you. His influence is an overwhelming presence.” 

That was the kind of praise that could be considered dangerous when spoken around the wrong people, but with just him and Ser Jason in the carriage, Damian let the pride swell in his chest. To be compared to his father and come out favorably, what more could he ask for? His father was the best man he knew, the best man any of them knew, and he could only be so lucky to be loved like he was.

Settling back into the carriage as they breached the gates of the castle, Damian smiled at Ser Jason before smoothing his cloaks. “Thank you, Ser Jason,” he said carefully. “Thank you for accompanying me on this trip. I know that I wouldn’t have been allowed otherwise, so thank you.” The older man just gazed at him with a warm expression and gave a small nod. It said more than words could.

When the carriage came to a stop, there was no waiting for formalities and Ser Jason opened the door so he could step out. Damian followed and turned to make sure Titus was able to get out without struggle.

“Dami! Jason!” His father called as he rushed forward and embraced both of them, Damian first for appearances sakes, and then Ser Jason. “We have missed you both. And this must be Titus! Your letter did not exaggerate his size,” the man laughed, kneeling to get level with the dog who now sat next to Damian’s feet panting. “He’s a fine-looking animal, Damian. And obedient already?”

“Yes, Father,” he agreed. “King Clark showed me how to train him. We still have some things to learn, but he knows the basics and will behave himself.” Damian snuck a glance toward where his mother stood at the top of the stairs with a scowl.

His father laughed when Titus leaned forward and licked at his face before standing and wiping away the dog drool. “Yes, well behaved indeed,” he teased, causing Damian and Ser Jason to laugh with him. “I asked the staff to have the necessary items placed in your rooms, but you let them know if there is something they missed. I do believe you are more than old enough for this responsibility.”

“Thank you, Father,” Damian smiled, pushing forward to hug the king around his middle before heading toward where his mother was still waiting. “Come, Titus.” He called the dog as he walked, prompting the animal to trot next to him as he walked up the steps and came to stand in front of his mother. “Hello, Mother,” he greeted. He noticed her eyes narrowed on Titus before glancing at Damian.

“What is this?”

“His name is Titus. We found him hurt and King Clark gave him to me to care for.” The scowl on her face deepened and Damian felt his heart sink. He had been hoping for a better reaction, even if he had known it wouldn’t actually happen. He had still hoped.

“You do not need the distraction. Give him to a staff member to find him a new home.”

“But- “

“You misstep, My Queen,” his father’s smooth voice sounded from behind Damian. Turning to look at the man who had his hard gaze on his mother, Damian held back his relief at his appearance. A glance at Ser Jason, who stood a few feet back, told him he had nothing to worry about. “I have already told him he may keep Titus. The arrangements have already been made. He is apparently a well behaved animal and it is a good responsibility to learn.”

The silence from his mother said a lot and Damian wondered if this was going to be a problem down the road. 

“Why don’t you take Titus out to the fields, Son? I’m sure he would be happy to run around before dinner tonight.” Nodding his head, he clicked his tongue and hurried away from the three adults as quickly as he could to avoid being more of a problem. He also didn’t want to hear yet another argument between his parents regarding him specifically.

Those happened frequently enough as it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glancing over to his left, Damian attempted to catch Ser Jason’s line of sight for a moment without much success. He wasn’t sure what it was he thought he would figure out from the man, but anything would be better than the glaringly empty seats where his father and mother usually sat.

But none of the others at the table seemed to be interested in addressing the matter, given the conversation floating around from the other occupants of the table.

His grandfather had been in deep conversation with Ser Jason and his Aunt Cassandra since the moment their plates had been delivered. He could hear words like _weapons_ , _forgers_ , and _arsenal_ every once in a while, so he knew it was probably about the latest weapons that the soldiers had been training with. He could hear his grandmother talking softly with his Aunt’s good friend, Stephanie, who had been his nurse when he had been a baby but was now basically a member of the family. He couldn’t make out anything from their conversation, but it didn’t matter.

All he wanted to know was where his parents were and why they had started without the king.

He was about to ask whoever was willing to listen when a loud bang sounded from outside the room and had the entire table startling. To the point that Ser Jason was on his feet, palming a dagger at his thigh and Titus had come to stand next to Damian’s chair, lips pulled back in a snarl.

Slipping his hand into the dog’s collar to keep him from running toward whatever had startled them all, Damian watched Ser Jason stalk toward the door and press an ear to the wood. Whatever he heard had his shoulders draining of tension and him putting the dagger away.

“Ser Todd,” his grandfather called out, pushing to his feet, but the Slayer waved a hand. Quickly, he tugged both doors open and revealed the two missing family members. The pair stood toe to toe and Damian wanted to shrink away from the look in his mother’s eyes.

He knew that look. This was about him.

But while his mother continued to look like she could spit fire, Damian watched his father slip back into the easy calm he always wore when people were around. Even if it was just family, he would never allow them to glimpse into his personal difficulties.

“Your Majesties,” Ser Jason greeted, tone flat. Damian saw his mother turn the gaze onto the other man and open her mouth, but she was unsurprisingly cut off by his father.

“Enough, Catalina!” It was the most forceful Damian had ever heard his father be. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to his parents fighting and he knew it had been happening more and more since he had returned from his visit with Jon in Metropolis, but his father had always seemed so collected when he did see it. “If you have more to say then we will discuss it later. You have already made your point quite clear and I have given you my answer.”

His mother jerked back as if she had been slapped and Damian wondered if that’s essentially what his father had just done with is words. Just like he had, his mother had probably expected him to keep the venom out of his voice as he always did. But he hadn’t. The King’s voice had been dripping in it.

“This is not over. I will not have my will ignored,” she growled out before turning on her heel and rushing away. And though Damian wanted to know what exactly had been going on, he was more focused on his father rubbing at his forehead as Ser Jason whispered something to him. There was a moment of tense silence between them before his father sighed and nodded. 

The pair exchanged a few more hushed words before they entered the dining hall and took their seats. Damian kept his eyes on his father and tried to see if he could get any answers, but he had a feeling it would be the same as always.

And the smile he finally got from his father once he was fully settled and had his plate set before him told him he wasn’t wrong. But his instincts told him he would personally pay for whatever it was that had happened between his parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In hindsight, Damian knew he should have expected backlash from his mother on the subject, but he hadn’t really thought about it. If he were completely honest, it hadn’t even crossed his mind when he had started the exchange of letters with Prince Jon of Kent. After he had stayed in Gotham when his brother and Damian’s uncle had come on formal business, the pair had just formed an easy friendship. And the time he had spent in Metropolis with the royal family under the guise of visiting his uncle had only served to strengthen the friendship.

Damian had been jealous at the easy view of the world the older prince had and had wanted to absorb that ideal. The same ideal that his father tried to instill in him, but his mother fought hard to extinguish.

“What are these?” A stack of papers fell in front of him as he worked on his lessons for the day and with barely a glance, Damian picked out Jon’s familiar script. “Explain yourself.”

Looking up at his mother with a frown, Damian watched her closely. “They are an exchange of letter with the Heir Apparent of Metropolis.” His father had been thrilled when he had learned that Damian and Jon had formed such a strong friendship. He had encouraged it and even gone as far as to offer to write to King Clark and the two boys might spend a few weeks each summer living in the other’s kingdom.

“They stop now.” And though he would regret it, Damian reacted.

“But Mother, he is my friend!” He shot to his feet and looked at her desperately. “Why should I not write to him? He will be King of Metropolis one day and this fosters good political bonds.” He knew it was a good argument but the look on her face told him she didn’t appreciate it.

“You are friends with people who can help you further our kingdom. We are already in good relations with the Kingdom of Metropolis and that makes this _friendship_ frivolous and juvenile.” His mother glared at him and though Damian wanted to stand his ground, he shrunk a little under the weight of her stare. “You are friends with who I say you can be friends with.”

“May I write to him one last time to explain?”

“No,” her voice was cold, and Damian hated it. “And if you know what is good for you, you will not let your Father hear of this. Honestly, Damian,” she sighed, grabbing the stack of letters and heading toward the lit fireplace. His heart dropped to his stomach and it took everything within him to keep from rushing forward to grab the letters. “I am doing this for you. To make you better. To make you stronger. To make you more than your father will ever be.” 

He watched sadly as she tossed the letters into the fire with a flick of her wrist and brush her hands down her skirts. The papers fed the fire immediately, burning bright for a matter of seconds before simmering back down to its original state. As if they had never been there to begin with. As if they had been nothing but a dream he had once had.

Dropping back down into his chair, he turned his eyes back to the texts in front of him and sighed. 

“You will be the most brilliant king this kingdom has every had the pleasure of witnessing. And in order to do that, you must be strong. You must rule with your head and not just your heart,” his mother spoke, her tone much more even now that she had accomplished her task. A tone he heard on a daily basis and knew much more than any other. “Your grandfather ruled only with his head. Your father only with his heart. You will be better.”

But Damian wasn’t sure he wanted to be better than either of them. He wanted to be loved like his father was. He wanted to walk the streets of Bristol and have citizens call out to him just to say hello and see how he is. He wanted to welcome other kingdoms into his own and break bread with them by fireside with a mug of mulled wine. 

More than that though, he wanted love. Not the love he got from his father or the distinctive love he got from his mother. No, he wanted the love he saw between his father and Ser Jason. Or his uncle and Duke Kon. Love that was built upon years of friendship. And maybe Jon had not been that love, but he had at least been a friend.

“Do you understand, my son?”

“Yes, Mother,” he agreed softly. Glancing back to the fire one last time, he picked up his quill and went back to his studies as his mother took her place in the chair by the window.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The loss of someone important changes all of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Soooooooo much angst. This chapter is heart breaking and the next chapter will be just as painful. 
> 
> Next chapter is still expected to be up on Friday! Which is my oldest gremlin’s bday so it might be posted earlier than usual because of zoom bday parties.

He had been on his way to the kitchens in search of Ser Jason when he had noticed his mother hurrying out of the castle, dark cloak thrown over her deep green gown she wore for the day. It wouldn’t have taken his notice if the manner of dress wasn’t so... _common_ for someone like her. It was no more elegant than what a commoner of the lower levels would have worn. And after all the lectures he had sat through of her trying to convince him to never lower himself to the status of the people he was to rule, he found it curious she would be wearing that dress.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” one of the staff members called out as they passed. He gave a hello back, but kept his focus on his mother. 

In a split second decision, he turned and followed the woman out of the castle at a distance. 

“Ser Roy, may I borrow your cloaks? I will explain the instant I return them,” Damian rushed toward the knight, who was chatting with another man Damian wasn’t sure he knew. The redhead regarded him for a moment with narrowed eyes before shrugging the black material off his shoulders and handing it over. “Thank you. Ser Kyle, hurry,” he called to his personal guard as he quickly tried to get his mother back in his sights.

The guard picked up his pace and caught up to his charge, brow furrowed as they kept to the shadows. “My Prince?” Damian shushed him when he spoke and kept his focus on his mother. He watched as she weaved in and out of the people milling about in the streets. She ignored vendors calling out about their goods and seemed to be focused on a particular destination. 

“Hoods up,” Damian told Ser Kyle as he pulled the hood on the borrowed cloak over his head and saw Ser Kyle do the same out of the corner of his eye. “Keep to the shadows with me. I am not certain where she is going, but Mother is acting suspicious.”

Ser Kyle kept quiet and Damian chanced a glance at the man who Ser Jason had personally vouched to be his personal guard and found him watching the Queen as she continued to hurry along. “Ser Todd asked me to keep you safe. I cannot say for certain this is safe, but I will follow you until I deem it necessary to leave.”

That was good enough for Damian.

“Where do you think she is going?”

“If I had to hedge a guess, I would say The Narrows. She is not dressed for the upper levels. But no woman, not even your mother, would travel into Crime Alley on purpose.” That made sense. And the further into the city streets they got, the more accurate the assessment seemed to be. But what exactly was awaiting them once she reached her destination?

The lower into the city levels they went, the cooler the air got and the less people were out milling about. It made it harder to blend in with the crowd, but Ser Kyle seemed to know exactly where to go to be sure they stayed out of sight but kept the Queen in their sight. Damian allowed the guard to take the lead on following his mother and stayed a step behind so the older man could focus. When his mother glanced around before stepping into an alleyway, Ser Kyle tugged Damian into the alley just before and began looking around.

“What are you doing?” Damian questioned, frowning as the man glanced around the back of the building that separated them from his mother. When Ser Kyle said nothing, but waved him over, Damian finally caught on. There was a ladder leading to the rooftop and the pair quickly climbed it.

“You must stay quiet My Prince.” Damian simply nodded and followed the man to the edge before dropping down so they could peek just over roof into the alley below. The sight of his mother with her hood down was not surprising. The fact that she was in a quiet conversation with a soldier dressed in the garb from her home country, Nanda Parbat, was. To the point where he felt Ser Kyle grip his arm and his entire body tense.

Damian knew enough about his grandmother’s home country to know that they were on good enough terms with Gotham to be allowed into the borders, but that his great grandfather was not the kind of man to not keep tabs on all countries he was allies with.

“…You owe him much,” the home language of Nanda Parbat caught on a breeze and Damian could pick up bits and pieces. “Ra’s does not offer this lightly. Your son will bow to him.” That made Damian tense, pulling Ser Kyle’s attention from the pair below to the boy next to him. But Damian kept his focus on the two and strained to hear more.

“I will hold my end of the bargain. Or my life is forfeit.” The solider gave a nod and a bow before turning and walking away. He watched his mother look at a small vial in her hand before slipping it into a pocket in her cloak and returning the way she came.

Sitting up, Damian tried to sort through what the pair could have possibly been talking about. What was in the vial? Why did his mother owe the king of her homeland her son’s allegiance?

“Your Highness?”

Looking at Ser Kyle, Damian frowned and tried to think of an explanation. But there was none. Had she even done anything wrong when he didn’t have the whole story? Not by their word of law.

“My Prince, did you hear anything they said? I do not speak Arabic.” Without considering the consequences, Damian shook his head.

“I could not hear,” he lied, though he wasn’t certain as to why. “We should return before anyone else notices we have gone. I promised Ser Harper an explanation, but I do not know what kind of explanation this will be considering.”

He knew the older man was regarding him closely, but Damian also knew he could lie with the best of them. His mother had made sure he could play his cards close to his chest. This was one of the few times her lessons were actually useful.

For once he was grateful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Damian, come,” his father had said softly as he passed the room where he had been reading one of the books his mother had assigned him. Since it was an incredibly dull account of the history of Nanda Parbat, Damian was happy to mark his place and follow his father as they headed down the hall.

“Where are we going, Father?” He questioned, looking up at the man as they made their way closer to the exit of the castle. 

“Ser Jason is to ride,” was the answer he received and the shortness made Damian frown. He hadn’t heard of any pods coming close. The last he had heard they were a fair ride away, but he wasn’t the Dragon Slayer. And only Ser Jason could really say if it were necessary for him to ride.

Bounding down the steps after his father, he smiled at the sight of the Slayer in his armor. Damian had always loved the gold and red he wore. The fierce strength the ensemble screamed. “My King,” Ser Jason greeted his father as Damian took the last few steps to reach them. “My Prince,” he said in a tone that Damian had come to recognize as one only used with him. His fatherly tone Damian had coined it.

“I received word that you are to ride.”

“There have been sightings coming through of a pod of three out near the Ethiopia boarders,” Ser Jason said as he straightened from his expected bow. A bow that was so pointless in his eyes. But propriety must stand, or so he had been told before.

“That is a far ride,” Damian said, surprised that the man would venture that far. He didn’t see the point of traveling such a distance when their lands were not in danger.

But the man nodded and looked down at him with wise eyes. “It is, but I would rather them not get closer to our lands. Not whilst we approach the dry season.” And he supposed that did make sense. Didn’t make the decision to go so far any easier to accept though. But Ser Jason was the one who knew how to handle these situations. And if his father trusted him, then Damian could. Even if his instincts told him something was very wrong with this. 

“You go alone?”

“I do, for now,” Jason answered him. Damian could tell his father didn’t like that answer. He had seen that narrow eyed look plenty of times when he was speaking with his mother. But Ser Jason seemed to find it amusing instead of intimidating. “I have allies within the lands and can call upon them if the need arises,” he laughed softly, calming Damian’s own nerves that had asrisen.

Then he remembered.

“Will you bring the scale like you promised?” It had been promised so long ago, but Damian asked each time the man rode. At this point he didn’t even expect it anymore but enjoyed the laughter it brought to the older man’s eyes.

“I shall do my very best.” Damian let out a soft shout before smiling over at his father. With a nod from the king, Damian sent Ser Jason one last smile and farewell before he bounded up the stairs to return to his book he had abandoned earlier.

He had almost reached the study when another set of footsteps caught his attention. “Ah, Nephew! Where are you coming from?”

“Aunt Cass,” he greeted, stopping so the woman could catch up to him. “I was saying farewell to Ser Jason. He is riding after a pod near Ethiopia.” The look of surprise on his aunt’s face reminded him of his own concerns at the matter. “He said he didn’t want to risk them coming closer to our lands when the dry season was approaching.”

His aunt hummed and nodded, eyes drifting as she took in his words. But her reaction unsettled him. He knew the woman observed much and said little. She knew far more than most members of the family just because she watched more than she acted. And he often wondered what kinds of secrets she kept from them all for their own sakes. 

He wondered how many secrets she had been told without anyone actually meaning to tell them.

“He is not wrong,” she murmured as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him in the direction he had previously been heading. “But you are worried, I can see it.”

“It’s so far. He doesn’t usually go so far.”

“But he told you why he was doing so.”

Damian shrugged. Sure, the man gave a reason, but that feeling of something being wrong still bothered him. It still told him there was more to the situation. “I do not know why, but I feel like that was not the full reason he was leaving.”

But his aunt didn’t say anything, she simply hummed again and walked with him. He didn’t know if she was waiting for him to say more or if she simply had nothing to add, but he could feel his shoulders tensing with each passing moment.

Once they reached the study he had been using, he stopped walking and his aunt paused with him. 

“You should try not to worry about Ser Todd. He is the best of the line and he loves your father too much to not return to him.” Nodding, Damian let his shoulders fall and tried to convince himself that she was right. “But if you figure out why it is you feel this way, then you can always talk to me.”

“Thank you, Aunt Cass.” The woman nodded and leaned forward, giving him a hug before she continued down the hallway, leaving Damian to return to his lessons. But the nagging feeling in the back of his mind remained.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you,” Damian said softly as he took the letter from his manservant as the tray with his breakfast was sat down on the small table he liked to take his first meal of the day at. At thirteen, he found he appreciated the quiet morning in his room as opposed to the lively breakfasts in the hall with the other members of the family. 

Especially the mornings when Ser Jason was still out on a hunt. Meals were not the same when one of his fathers were missing.

Sitting on his plush chair, he carefully broke the official seal of the council and opened the letter. He couldn’t imagine what they could be sending to him in such an official capacity at this time of day, but he went along with it all the same.

But the words written on the parchment made his blood run cold.

And the paper hadn’t even hit the floor before he was throwing open the doors to his room and looking for a servant. “Please, have you seen my father this morning?” He gasped at the elderly woman carrying a stack of blankets and sheets.

“Yes, My Prince. I saw him rushing out of the castle not long ago. His personal guard was with him. Barely chanced a glance at anyone as he hurried. Must have been important,” she told him, and Damian called out a thank you before he ran off in the direction she had mentioned.

He didn’t look back when the sound of someone hurrying along behind him appeared, knowing it would be Ser Kyle since it was his job after all. He wasn’t sure where his father would have gone, at least not until he stepped out of the castle and realized.

The Sept.

“Your Highness, where are we going?” Ser Kyle questioned as they continued to hurry, almost running to get to the building Damian knew he would find his father in. “My Prince, what has happened?”

Pausing in his rush, he turned to face the man who’s heart he was probably about to break. “Ser Jason has fallen.” Ser Kyle paled and gasped out a ‘no’, shaking his head. And Damian wished he could say it was a cruel joke, a whim of a lie. But he could feel his own heart fracturing and he could only image what his father was feeling right then. “He has returned for his final rest and I must get to my father.”

The other man was silent, but nodded and they hurried to the Sept. 

When they reached the building, Damian was unsurprised to find his father’s personal guard there, blocking entrance to anyone who might want it. But the instant Ser Victor spotted Damian and Ser Kyle, his eyes went from hard to incredibly sad, understanding.

“My Prince,” the guard gave a bow and stepped aside so Damian could head inside. “We shall keep unwanted persons out.” Glancing at Ser Kyle, Damian watched the other man take a few deep breaths before nodding and steeling himself. He was so thankful for the two of them in that moment, knowing that his father’s grief would be protected for the time being. 

Stepping into the Sept was always a moment of wonder, even in the saddest of times, the room with it’s colored glass and natural light, was always breathtaking. In that moment though, Damian couldn’t take in the beauty. He couldn’t revel in the rainbow of colors that graced the floors and the sparkling of the metals embedded in the walls. He could only see the lower half of a body covered in a red shroud and the back of his father; shoulders low in grief.

“Father,” Damian called out softly, not wanting to startle the man. Or maybe he couldn’t speak louder if he had tried. He couldn’t be certain. He _could_ be certain that he would never forget the look in his father’s eyes when the man turned to look at him briefly before turning back to look at Ser Jason’s body. “Father, I am so sorry.” He felt his voice crack on the apology, his own pain breaking through.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting out of his father in that moment, but he didn’t hesitate to take the older man’s hand when it was offered. Seeking the comfort of his father as well as trying to offer the man some of his own. But what could he possibly offer in a moment like this? What could he possibly do to make the pain _less_?

“Do you think he knew I thought of him as another father?” Because of course he had never told the man. Of course he had never said the words out loud, despite having felt the affection from a young age. King Richard and Queen Catalina might have been his biological parents but Richard and Jason were his parents in every other way. How could he not have loved the man his father loved so strongly? How could he not love the man who so obviously loved his father just as much? Who treated him as though he were of his own blood?

He didn’t look at his father when the man looked down at him. Instead, he kept his green eyes on the body of the man in question. “You love him so I, too, love him. He always had words of wisdom and tales of his travels. I will cherish those.” But that didn’t even breach the surface of how he really felt. It didn’t tell of the times they had spent laughing over a snack in the kitchens while the staff bustled around them. It didn’t tell of the encouragement that the older man had provided while Damian trained with the swords and learned to be the best fighter he could be. It didn’t tell of the quiet conversations between them in the library when his mother had gone too far. When she had forced him to cut off the only friendship he had ever cherished.

It didn’t tell of so many things he would hold close to his heart for his remaining days.

“He felt the same for you. He…” Finally glancing away from Ser Jason’s body, Damian looked up at his father and pressed his lips together to fight tears of his own. The man before him would never be the same, he knew that with every fiber of his being. He knew his father would never be the man he was. “I do not know that I will recover from this loss. I feel as though the world has been stripped of all its color, all its joy.” And what was he supposed to say to that? What comfort could a son give when a love like theirs had been stripped away?

Opening his mouth to say something, anything, he was cut off by the sound of one of the various guards who had apparently come to watch over them. “Your Majesty, your father is on his way. His manservant thought you would like the warning.” 

His father nodded and Damian watched him reign himself in, in a way that he had only ever seen his father do it. It made him frown, heart aching more prominently for the man. That he felt he had to compose himself for the sake of his own father instead of allowing himself to just be honest in his pain. But when his father gave him a small, albeit sad, smile, he accepted the action.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“No, my son. I feel I would be much better should you be willing to remain at my side.” And though Damian felt it would be better for him to step out and let father and son be alone, the squeeze of his father’s hand put an end to that line of thought. “Father,” the man greeted as Damian spotted his grandfather hurrying down the steps. 

“Richard, I am so sorry.” And while Damian had been concerned his father would try to hold it in while the former king was present, he was glad and heartbroken to watch that not be the case. He watched his grandfather gather his father into his arms and felt the quiet sobs like a knife to his heart. Never had he seen his father cry. There had been plenty of emotions he had seen in the other man, but never sadness in this way. Never sorrow.

Never grief. 

It hurt to watch, to hear. But it didn’t make him want to run, it made him want to come closer, to provide comfort he wasn’t yet qualified to give. But he did what he could. He moved closer and grabbed onto his father’s cloak with the hand not still holding his and pressed close. 

And the look in his grandfather’s eyes over his father’s shoulder told him he had made the right choice. That this was exactly where he needed to be right in that moment. That nothing else mattered. No one else mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had kept his gaze on his father for most of the meeting and he knew that most of the Council had done the same. The usually vibrant and cheerful king was dull in his smile and his eyes. Not that any of them blamed him for his current demeanor.

Not when Damian had spent the entire night up with the man as he cried silently into his pillow.

But the Council had been called and the discussion had been the procedure for the lack of a slayer, despite the body having only been in the Sept for a day. It almost seemed cruel to expect the king to go through this, but appearances had to be kept. Or so everyone told him when he had voiced his displeasure at forcing his father through this. 

_“The kingdom still needs their king and they do not know the connection between the two men the way those close to him do,”_ his grandfather had reminded him. But Damian knew most of the country at least suspected the truth of it all.

“Is there anything left to bring to the table?” One of the councilmen asked, standing in a spot a few seats down from where Damian sat just to the right of his father.

Pushing to his feet, he drew twelve sets of eyes to him as he took a deep breath. “Council, I know my presence is technically not one of authority yet, but I would like to bring forth a request regarding honoring our fallen Slayer.” There were some murmurs amongst those at the table and for a moment he thought he would be denied, but at the clearing of his father’s throat any complaints were kept silent. “For as long as our history has been told, we have celebrated and honored our royal members with the Feast of the Seven after their passing. I would like to formally request that we grant that honor to Ser Jason.”

“Impossible. It has never been done,” one of the older members called out from the far end of the table and Damian frowned, looking down at his father. The man was already looking up at him, pride and adoration in his sad eyes. At his nod, Damian steeled himself further.

“We have broken tradition plenty of times in the past,” he pointed out. “When King Thomas and Queen Martha were taken before their time, the Council granted the Feast to be fourteen days.”

“Because we were honoring them both.”

“But it was unnecessary as you were honoring them together. Ser Jason was not of royal blood, but he is one of us. My grandfather loved him as one of his own children. Other members of the family have loved him more deeply then they would ever be able to say,” he kept his voice steady, despite building emotion. Not just for the sake of his father but for his own. Because he loved the man more than he was allowed to admit without casting shame on his mother. “He was the last of a legacy and he deserves to be honored as such.”

One of the women near the middle of the table carefully stood and looked toward the king with a firm nod before sending a smile to Damian. “I second. The Kingdom of Gotham deserves to honor the Last Dragon Slayer and this would allow those who wish to travel into the city to pay their respects the opportunity to do so.”

“I third and call it to a vote.”

Dropping back down into his seat, Damian let his father slip his hand into his smaller one as they watched the council members go through the motions of the vote. Damian let out a relieved sigh when it passed unanimously.

“Thank you, My Son,” his father whispered, squeezing his hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Grandfather, may I speak with you?” Damian called out from the doorway of his grandfather’s study. The older man was seated at his desk, but his attention had been on the window instead of the papers in front of him. The tired, blue eyes of the older man turned to take in the sight of his only grandchild and waved him in.

“Of course,” he agreed, and Damian nodded, stepping fully into the room and letting the door fall shut behind him as he made his way closer to the desk. “Is everything all right?” And the question made Damian frown, wondering how he could answer it honestly. “Perhaps that is not the right question to ask. Given the situation.”

Sighing, the young man nodded and dropped down into one of the plush chairs. “I have a question regarding the pyre tonight.” His grandfather’s eyebrows rose, but he remained silent so Damian could say his piece. “I wish to break tradition again. I know we are giving…that we are honoring him with the Feast of the Seven, but I wondered if I might light the pyre after Father?”

Damian had studied up on and been to enough pyres to know that the acting King and the still living previous kings were the ones to traditionally light the pyre, especially when the person was of the high ranking Ser Jason was. But there had also been a few moments in time when that tradition had been broken under special circumstances.

“May I ask why?”

“He did not contribute to my blood, but he was still a father to me. I deserve the right to stand by Father’s side and say goodbye to…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands that he had clasped tightly in his lap. He hadn’t said his name since he had found out that he had been slain and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to without a deep ache in his chest. 

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and got himself under control. His mother’s voice sounded in his mind, telling him to act like the Crown Prince that he was. To act like a Wayne. His father had been strong outside of the moment in the Sept the other day and Damian knew he could do the same.

Once he felt like he had gotten himself under control, he looked up to find the former king regarding him sadly. “Though I thought of Jason as a son, I will relinquish my right to the pyre light. You may say goodbye to your father in this manner, if that is what you really want.”

“It is.” His grandfather nodded and leaned back in his chair. 

“Tell me how my son is. I have not seen him since yesterday and no one I have asked has either.” Damian felt a sad smile curl his lips just slightly. He had left his father to come here. He had hardly allowed himself to be apart from the man since the Sept. Despite his mother’s protests and demanding he keep up with his studies, he had not allowed his father to be alone for long.

“He was sleeping when I came here. I have been close ever since hearing the news,” Damian admitted to his grandfather. The man looked relieved and pained at the news, a conflicting set of emotions if Damian had ever seen them. “I do not know how to help him other than make sure he sleeps, and he eats. I think the Feast will be good, give him something to focus on other than his broken heart. But until then, he deserves the chance to mourn in his own way.”

“It is good of you to look after him. That is not a burden a son should have to carry.” And perhaps his grandfather was right, but Damian couldn’t help but wonder who would carry it if he didn’t? Who else would his father allow himself to be honest around? Who else would he trust with this pain?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Everyone is already in place, Your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke softly. His father glanced back at him before looking to the guard and nodding. Without another word, Damian walked behind his father with his mother at his side and headed up the steps where the funeral pyre was being held. And in the short walk, Damian couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of all the people who had gathered to watch. People who had loved the man in their own way. Including the women from the local brothel that he had heard Ser Roy and Ser Kyle discussing on the training fields. 

Damian had made a mental note to mention it to his father so they could be sure they were still looked after. But he had a feeling his father already knew. Even in the depths of his grief, he was still good at caring for his kingdom.

When his father took his designated seat, Damian came to a stop beside it and stood tall. With his mother so close, he knew it was expected of him to remain strong. He wasn’t sure how she would react to him being the second to light the pyre tonight, but he told himself whatever she did or said would be worth it. She had already proclaimed her displeasure at him having gotten Ser Jason honored with a Feast of the Seven. This couldn’t be any worse.

“It is no secret that House Wayne has always held the highest respect for those of the Dragon Slayer occupation, but Ser Jason always held a special place in our lives due to the fact that he was the last remaining slayer. The last of his line and the last of a profession of bravery and strength.” The words of his grandfather washed over him as he looked out over the crowd, taking in each of the faces as they listened. He watched tears fall and hands clasp together. He watched whispers and hugs of comfort. He watched people give to each other what he was not allowed to give to his father in that moment.

“We will honor Ser Jason Todd with the Feast of Seven Days as we do for members of the royal family because he is one of ours. The doors to the palace and sept will be open to each and every citizen of Gotham to pay their respects and to join us in our grief.” And despite his mother’s discontent at his actions regarding this, Damian felt his pride swell when he watched the approval of the citizens. 

He hadn’t suggested it for them, he had done it solely for his father. But he was glad that they approved of the motion all the same. He was glad to give them something that had been somewhat selfish in its origin.

The movement of his father standing pulled Damian’s attention away from the crowd to the man as he walked toward Ser Jason’s closest friend to retrieve the torch to light the pyre. The look that passed between the two men was meaningful and Damian knew that Ser Roy was grieving just as much, though in a different manner, for the man they all had loved. He knew Ser Kyle, who he would find if he bothered to glance back, was struggling with the grief as well.

Something precious had been stolen and they were all struggling under the absence of it.

With a shaking breath, his father stood before Ser Jason’s shrouded body and looked out over the crowd. “To the last of the Dragon Slayers, to the greatest of the line, to the fallen soldier, and to the man behind the sword. The world is a colder, darker place without the splash of crimson from your cloaks and your sea colored eyes. May those of us who have been left behind honor your legacy and never forget your bravery. May we never forget your strength and your character. May we never forget your love and kindness to those who surrounded you.” 

A scoff to his right drew Damian’s eye for a moment and though he couldn’t be certain, he was fairly sure it had come from his mother. But her stiff posture and blank face gave away very little. And not for the first time, his mind flashed back to the exchange between her and the guard from Nanda Parbat he and Ser Kyle had witness in the Narrows.

_“You owe him much.”_

But what did she owe King Ra’s for?

“Damian,” a voice cut through his thoughts, pulling his attention to his grandfather as he stood in front of him. With a nod, Damian moved forward and ignored the motion his mother made to try and stop him. He knew his grandfather had probably positioned himself between them on purpose, so he could step up behind his father.

No words were exchanged when the older man passed the torch to him, but he could she the surprise in his eyes. The question as to what was happening. But Damian ignored it in favor of stepping forward to the pyre to light the opposite corner that his father had started. And though he was expected to step away from the fire once the act was done, he felt he couldn’t move away just yet. The heat from the flame warming him, but the sight breaking him with each crackle. 

Ser Jason had said this would happen. That there would come a time when Damian and his father would have to bury him. Not because he wasn’t good at his job or that he was reckless, but because that was the way of the Slayer. Families always buried them long before they joined them. And though he had believed the man, he had hoped beyond hope that Ser Jason would be wrong. That this once he would be proven incorrect. 

“I’ll take that, My Prince,” Ser Roy said softly as he stepped up next to Damian. Glancing up at the older man, Damian allowed him to take the torch but still did not move. There was a beat of silence and Damian found himself waiting, knowing there was something the solider wanted to say. “He loved you very much, Your Highness. I know he was never able to tell you how much, but he was not so shy with his words with others.”

With a stilted bow, the solider walked away and Damian felt himself move away from the pyre to stand next to his father and grandfather, ignoring the look his mother was sending him. Because despite knowing she would find some way to punish him, he would never regret his actions as of late.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Feast of the Seven brings a source of comfort to Damian. Comfort that will help him get through yet another loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my JonDami lovers. And for my angst lovers. I have probably one more really angsty chapter before the fluff takes over. Sort of.

The Great Hall was already bustling with people when Damian made his way down the first morning of the Feast. It may have been his first, but he was well read on what happened during the seven days. Each morning people came from all over and made a contribution to the kitchen for the feast that would be laid out for all to partake in the same evening. His grandfather had told him that the crown usually provided the vast majority, but from the looks of the items on the long table in the center of the room, that wouldn’t be the case this time.

“It’s quite the sight, isn’t it?” Damian turned to find Ser Roy standing behind him, out of his uniform and far more casual than he had ever seen the man. Damian was certain he had never seen the solider in anything other than his uniform. “I think the history books will record this as the most generous Feast our kingdom as ever seen.”

Looking back to the table, watching a few citizens placing more items on the already overflowing table, Damian felt his sadness surge. “He left so many behind.”

Roy hummed. “He did, Your Highness. That he did.” The pair stood in silence for a moment longer before Ser Roy laid a hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze and left the room. But Damian found himself rooted in his spot, watching people come and go. A few of the citizens greeted him and he returned their attention, but for the most part he was left alone in his observations.

But once it seemed that there was to be a lull in people coming in, Damian made his way over toward the kitchens out of sheer habit, pausing right outside the entry way. He could see the counter where he and Ser Jason had spent so many meals, and snacks, together. He could see the staff bustling about, busy in their preparations for the feast and it made him wonder if he would be in the way. For once in his life, he was almost afraid to set foot in the kitchen where he had so many good memories.

“Your Highness!” The head chef called out when he was spotted, still debating if he should enter or not. “Are you going to stand in the doorway all day or would you like to sit for a spell?” Her eyes were sad and yet held so much warmth at the same time. It was enough of an invitation, despite the words she spoke, to get his feet moving. “We’ll fix you a plate up quick. Tea?”

Nodding his head, he slowly sat himself down on his usual stool. He pointedly didn’t look at the empty spot to his right, trying not to think about how lonely it felt to sit here without anyone beside him. Soon enough a plate was being placed in front of him and a teacup followed shortly. He tried not to notice how lonely the single cup and small plate looked without their usual mates. The hand that fell on the back of his neck caused his head to droop and his eyes to close.

“It will get easy, Little Prince. A bit each day.” It brought unwanted tears to his eyes, something he had been so good at avoiding up until then. “Oh, Little Prince…” He found himself being pulled into an unfamiliar embrace by a familiar person. And though Damian knew he should pull himself together, he couldn’t find the strength right then. He just needed a moment to stop trying to be strong for his father, for the family name, for impressions sake. He just needed a moment.

He didn’t notice the kitchen going quiet while he silently cried into the chef’s shoulder. He didn’t notice the aborted footsteps of another person of the castle coming into the kitchen. The hushed conversation between that person and one of the staff. 

“You just let it out right now, Little Prince. You just let yourself feel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Damian,” a familiar voice called out to him as he walked down the hallway and it made him frown. He hadn’t known his uncle would be joining them during the Feast, but it was a surprise he would welcome. Turning he looked at the man at the far end of the hallway before hurrying to greet him with a hug. “Oh Nephew,” he said gently, more gently than he had ever heard from the other man. But Damian didn’t want to dissect that right then. He just wanted to accept comfort from someone who was offering it without expecting him to give it in return. Or not even being able to give it period.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he muttered into his uncle’s shoulder. 

He felt the motion of his uncle nodding but didn’t bother lifting his head. Instead he tightened his arms around the older man and clung to him the same way he had clung to his father the day Ser Jason had come home for his final rest. “Father sent a message immediately and we came as soon as it was in hand. How is your father?”

For that, Damian did lift his head. It was then he noticed Duke Kon and Jon standing a few feet away, observing. Flushing with guilt at the sight of Jon, remembering how his mother had forced him to cut off contact with the other teen, Damian dropped his gaze. 

“He is not good.”

“I suspected that would be the case,” his uncle admitted. “But I can hedge a guess that he is putting up a good mask and not many realize it?” Damian looked at him and nodded. “Yes, he was always good at hiding his pain away.”

Glancing back down the hallway where he had been heading to see his father, he worried his lip for a moment. “I was just going to see if he would take lunch with me in the kitchens. Maybe you could go to him instead? I know he has not hidden much of how he’s been feeling from me, but perhaps a brother would be comforting.”

He looked back when a hand landed on his upper arm and Damian was surprised to see it was Duke Kon who had reached out to him. “Timothy and I will go to him.” Damian’s gaze flicked to Jon for a moment before looking back to his two uncles and nodded. 

Timothy stepped forward again and wrapped Damian up in his arms again for a moment, Damian easily sinking into the comfort again, before stepping away to head down the hallway with his husband at his side. He watched them go for a few moments, ignoring the shifting of Jon just a few paces away, before sighing and facing the fact that he couldn’t put this off.

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned to look at Jon and found the other man watching him sadly. “Your Highness…” Damian greeted, uncertain of what to do. He could hear his mother’s voice telling him that Jon was not his friend, that he was a political ally and that was it. But he didn’t want that.

“Is that who I am now?” Jon’s voice was soft, sadness sitting heavy in the air between them. Shrugging a shoulder, Damian looked away from him and tried to think of something to say. “I can be what you need me to be, Damian.” The use of his name instead of his title caused him to close his eyes. “Do you need me to be Prince Jon? Do you want me to be?”

No. He didn’t want that at all. He knew he wanted Jon as a friend. He wanted the casual comfort between them. He wanted the easy laughter. But he didn’t know how to ask for that when his mother could be anywhere. But part of him reminded him that Jon’s friendship was worth it. Wasn’t it?

“I need to take Titus for a walk.” The words seemed to have caught Jon off guard from the look Damian could see on his face. “We usually go further into the grounds and I like to eat while he runs off his excessive energy.” Jon looked confused for a beat before understanding struck him and he nodded. Without another word, Damian watched the other man turn and hurry toward the kitchens.

He knew Jon understood what he was saying without actually saying it. So he turned and headed toward his rooms to collect Titus for the walk Jon would happen to join him on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was following Titus down the steps into the back grounds of the castle when Jon appeared almost out of nowhere. 

“Hello, Your Highness,” he greeted, voice even. But his eyes gave a twinkle of excitement. “Are you off for a walk? Might I join you?”

Nodding his head, Damian kept silent as he watched Titus bound over to Jon and greet him before circling Damian and taking off in the direction they usually went. Damian noticed the sack slung over Jon’s shoulder and gave a small smile in response.

“Shall I follow at a distance, My Prince?” Ser Kyle called from his spot near the gates where he had been speaking to some fellow guards. At Damian’s nod, the soldier gave one of his own and let the pair walk ahead of him. He knew the solider would keep them in his line of sight, but keep far enough back to give them some semblance of privacy.

“He is new?” Jon questioned, glancing back at the guard.

Damian hummed and clasped his hands behind his back. “When I turned twelve, it was decided I would have my own personal guard appointed as I was then allowed to freely walk the city grounds.” Jon didn’t reply to that, but Damian could see him nodding out of the corner of his eye. The pair walked in silence for a while, following Titus as he chased various birds and bugs through the ankle high grass on the grounds. It was comfortable. Or it would have been, if Damian hadn’t found himself so tense being so close to his former friend. Or maybe Jon was still his friend, he couldn’t be certain.

“Damian,” Jon spoke softly, reaching out and gripping the younger’s elbow to get him to stop walking. “I know what your mother did.” Frowning, Damian looked at Jon. He was sure his confusion was written plain as day. “Ser Jason sent me a letter a few months after yours stopped suddenly. I assume that is when you told him what she had demanded of you.”

Thinking back to that conversation in the kitchens, Damian felt his sadness grow again because conversations like that would never happen again. The man had been understanding and quiet, letting Damian release his frustrations and anger out on him. Then he had told Damian that even though she had told him not to, he could go to his father. That he would take care of it. But Damian was so tired of being the reason his parents were constantly at odds, so he had told his father figure that he couldn’t. That it was just better to do what she demanded and save them all the frustration and fighting.

“I need to ask you something,” Jon stepped closer and Damian watched him carefully. “I need to ask you something and I would like you to be completely honest with me, if you would?” Not trusting himself to speak, Damian nodded his head and waited while Jon seemed to gather himself. It took a few tries before the older man was finally able to get his words out. “Should I be concerned enough to bring this up with our fathers? Is…is this the first time she has made such demands of you?” The question didn’t make sense to him. But then…

Oh.

_Oh._

Damian had never told Jon the kind of woman his mother was. He had let Jon make his own assessments and assumptions based on what he saw during his visits, but Damian had personally never complained about the woman. And Catalina Wayne was many things, but she was always proper when there were guests in the castle. It was one of the rare times his parents wouldn’t be caught fighting any time they were in the same room.

“Not all mothers are like yours,” he admitted. “But this wouldn’t be news to my father, Jon. He, more than anyone, is well acquainted with his Queen’s short comings.” That didn’t seem to make Jon feel any better, if the tightening of the hand on his elbow was anything to go off of. “Jon…I am sorry I did not fight for you. But I must be very careful of the battles I pick. For my sake and my father’s.”

“I do not understand.”

Tugging his arm out of Jon’s grip, Damian started walking again. He gathered his thoughts before glancing back to see if Ser Kyle was in earshot or not. When he was sure the man was far enough away, Damian look at Jon as he walked beside him.

“My parents did not marry because they wanted to. They did not marry to advance an alliance between two kingdoms. They married because my mother was desperate, and my father could not marry the person he wanted to.” He watched Jon take in this information and waited, hoping he would come to the unspoken conclusion without Damian having to say it. It took a few more passing moments before Jon’s face showed his understanding. “I am a pawn to one parent and treasure to the other.”

“Dami…” Jon started but Damian waved his hand to stop him for saying whatever it was he was going to say.

“It is what it is,” Damian admitted with a shrug before pausing their walk to let out a whistle to call Titus back from wherever he had run off to. “I do not tell you this for pity. I simply want you to understand that though I deeply appreciate your friendship, you are very removed from what it is like for us here. And now more than ever…” He trailed off and watched Titus trot his way over. The dog reached them and obediently sat next to Damian’s feet.

“He loved you very much.” 

“And I him.”

“I am sorry, Dami. To lose someone you love that way so suddenly, I know it must hurt.” Nodding slowly, Damian ran his hand over Titus’s head as the dog sat panting. “And you have been looking after your father. Has anyone been looking after you?” 

But Damian wasn’t sure how to answer that. He had his family around him, leaning on each other to get through such a trying time. But did Damian lean on any of them that way he had allowed them to lean on him if they needed? He wasn’t sure. His father was his usual comfort but for obvious reasons that was not happening. Then it would have been Ser Jason. But he couldn’t think of a moment when he had felt comfort the past couple days. Not like he had when he had hugged his uncle in the hallway earlier.

“I shall look after you,” Jon offered, reaching forward and pulling the thirteen-year-old into a hug. And Damian found himself falling into it without any resistance. They were safe from prying eyes out on the grounds. Ser Kyle was trusted, and his mother would never come this far out. Jon cared. And Damian was just so tired of standing strong for those around him. He was so tired of being weighed down by so many expectations. It was almost easy to just slump into Jon’s embrace and let his forehead fall against the man’s shoulder. 

“I’ve got you.” And Damian trusted him to do just that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness?” A knock came on the open door, a guard sticking his head into the room and seeking out Damian. It took everything within him not to sigh at the sight of the man. He had been with his mother all morning and was finally able to just relax and breathe. It was all he wanted. Some peace before he went searching for Jon to spend some time with the other teen. “His Majesty asked me to retrieve you for the Council meeting.”

Damian frowned, “I wasn’t aware there was one?”

“It’s an emergency meeting. I do not know more than that, I’m sorry.” But it was enough. Nodding, he pushed himself up out of the chair and tried to shake off the exhaustion. He could do this, whatever his father had called the Council together for, he could handle. Then he would take a few moments to himself before he sought out Jon.

Following the guard down the hallway, Damian glanced around and noticed Ser Kyle was missing. “Where is my guard?” He asked curiously. The guard leading him said nothing as they rounded the corner and simply pointed to the small gathering of the main guards of the family. “Ser Kyle, Ser Victor, Ser Roy…what is going on?” He questioned when they got closer. The three men turned away from the other three guards there and gave a bow to him.

“Your father asked Ser Victor to gather us along with the Council,” Ser Kyle explained. “I see he summoned you for this as well.” Nodding his head, Damian glanced over the guards before heading into the hall. He found the majority of the councilmembers already seated, but a few were gathered at the head of the table talking to his father.

“This is most unregular,” he heard one of them say before he was noticed by his father.

“Good, Damian. Everyone, please take your seats. Son, you are to sit at the head today. I am excusing myself from the proceedings.” There were a few called protests that were shot down the moment his father looked their way, guiding Damian to sit in the seat reserved for the king. His father then pulled out the chair to the left, the one Damian usually sat in. “Ser Victor, please bring in all but Ser Garth. I would like him on that side of the door. You may fill him in after. Ser Kyle, you stand on this side of the doors. Thank you.” 

There was some shuffling as the guards took their places and Ser Victor made his way to stand behind the chair the king stood in front of. Everything about the situation was irregular and Damian couldn’t shake the feeling that something life changing was about to happen.

“Now, I have gathered you here in an emergency capacity because I had something brought to my attention this morning and Ser Victor is here as a witness to the event.” His father then began to tell the story of Madame Xanadu, the healer most knew from the city. Damian had heard great things about her from some of the citizens. He listened to his father tell how a woman attempting to disguise herself approached her for a curse that would spite a man who had scorned her. He didn’t go into details about the curse or what the healer had done. But he did tell of the knowledge the healer had of the woman’s actions against the Slayer they had just finished celebrating.

Looking away from his father, Damian sought out Ser Kyle and found the man looking right at him. That was all Damian needed to see in order to know he was thinking about the same event. A guard in Ah Ghul garb and his mother in her commoner cloaks.

“What is it you are asking to do, Your Majesty?” One of the councilmembers asked once his father had finished telling them what had been relayed to him. “Are we to put the Queen on trial for killing Ser Jason? With only the word of one healer?”

“Do we have any other proof? Anything else that could possibly be suspicious?”

A solid nod from Ser Kyle was all Damian needed to know he had to say something. “I have something. Perhaps more than one something,” he stated, looking over at his father. He watched the man’s brows pull together and a frown tug at the corners of his lips. “A suspicious something, at least. A few weeks ago, I spotted Mother rushing out of the grounds while wearing clothing of the citizens. Ser Kyle and I followed her deeper into the city and observed her in conversation with a man dressed in the robes of an Ah Ghul guard.”

The shocked murmurs and whispers from the councilmembers were not surprising. His father’s face going blank said so much more. And Damian hated it. The man was not happy that Damian had not told him about this.

“Did you hear what was said?” Damian’s attention was pulled away from his father to the woman who questioned him.

“Just a few things,” he admitted, sending a guilty look toward Ser Kyle who looked surprised. “We were up above on a rooftop and Ser Kyle does not speak Arabic, but I heard ‘you owe him much’, ‘Ra’s does not offer this lightly.’ Your son will bow to him’, and ‘I will hold my end of the bargain. Or my life is forfeit.’.” He let the words settle over the members and looked back to his father. “I do not know more than that. Other than if you could search her rooms? Many times in my lessons, she would be pacing while reading letters that appeared to be written in the same language of Nanda Parbat.”

He father said nothing as he turned to look at Ser Victor. Damian saw the guard nod before he turned and went to speak to the other guards standing off to the side. 

“I am calling for the arrest of Her Majesty. She will stand trial and Madame Xanadu has said she will testify. My Son,” his father looked down at Damian and clenched his jaw for a moment, seemingly gathering himself. “Will you tell the story again before the courts?” Will you condemn your mother? That was the unspoken question. His father didn’t want him to have to be used against the woman who was supposed to love him unconditionally, but she had never been that person. Ser Jason had been.

“I will.”

“My King,” Ser Kyle called out, stepping away from his post hesitantly. “Perhaps I might stand in his place?”

“Oh,” his father paused to consider this before nodding. “Yes, yes that would be acceptable. If we need more, I will call upon you Son.” Damian frowned at being left out but nodded. It would probably be better this way.

“Prince Damian, will you make the official order? As the King has removed himself from that position today, it falls upon you.” Damian saw his father sit down as the councilmember spoke and Damian slowly stood to his feet. Swallowing hard, he tried to steel himself.

“Ser Victor, under order of The Crown and Council, arrest Her Majesty Queen Catalina of House Wayne for her part in the death of Ser Jason Todd.” The head guard placed a hand over his heart and gave a stiff bow before calling an order to the other guards. Damian waited for them to clear out of the room before he dropped back down into his seat and looked back to his father. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had remained in the back of the room while his mother had faced her trial. His father had told him he could skip the entire event, but Damian had said he owed it to Ser Jason to be there. He owed it to the man who had been his father more than she had been his mother. 

And he couldn’t shake the guilt that if maybe he had told his father about what he and Ser Kyle had seen, they might have avoided losing Ser Jason.

But his father had shot that thought down quickly. That it wouldn’t have been near enough to put her on trial. It would have only caused her to change her tactics. But because he had remained silent, they had gathered enough intel from Madame Xanadu, the observations of Damian, and the letters hidden away in the Queen’s study that Damian had seen her reading before.

It had been enough.

“We sentence Catalina of House Flores to death for the crime of conspiracy to kill Ser Jason Todd and treason to The Crown.” The words were cold and Damian flinched at the sound of the gavel hitting the table, but he did not feel more than that. He could not bring himself to feel anything as his mother was sentenced to death. He was about to lose his second parent in less than a month and yet he could not feel anything.

“Damian?” He glanced over to find Duke Kon standing beside his bench with a worried look. Standing, Damian moved over to the man and glanced back at the space where his mother was fighting the guards assigned to take her back to the dungeons. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, looking back to the man. “I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know if I should mourn her or hate her. She stole him from us but she was still my mother.” The Duke nodded sadly before wrapping an arm around his shoulders, leading him out of the room before the crowds watching the trial left. The judges still had to tell how the former queen would be executed and Damian didn’t need to be there for that.

He let Duke Kon guide him out of the hall and down the steps into the streets. There were citizens waiting to see what the outcome of the trial would be, but none of them would approach him. None of them would ask a son if his mother was to be put to death or not. And that was really the only question that had to be answered. Everyone knew the queen would no longer be a queen after the trial, but whether or not her actions warranted execution or exile had been in question.

They had made it back to the carriages when a man rushed out of the hall and exclaimed, “Execution!”, leading the crowd to cheer in a deafening manner. Damian was glad to be inside the carriage when the joy was exclaimed by those waiting outside. He was glad Duke Kon had gotten him away from that before he was caught in it.

“Did Father ask you to do this?” He asked, curious about the timing.

“No, I had a feeling what the outcome would be. You did not need to deal with that on top of everything else.” The man smiled at him from the seat across from him and Damian sighed. “I know justice is being served, but you are still her child. You still deserve to be protected. Son of the fallen queen or not.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dungeons were quiet when he entered them with the tray of food in hand. He had begged Ser Kyle to allow him to do this and though the guard had voiced his objections quite loudly, he had relented. He had even come up with the plan to have him replace the guard at the door so Damian could speak to his mother for a few moments in peace. Or as peace as it could be considering Ser Kyle made it clear he would be within earshot.

“I was wondering if you’d find your way down here,” the familiar, cold voice sounded. Damian didn’t reply as he set the tray of food into the slot of the bars and stepped back. He took a moment to look at the proud woman before him. It had been a week since her trial and the following day would be her execution. And despite the impending death, she still managed to look as though nothing could touch her.

At least not mentally.

Physically was a different story. Dirt caked her hair and the gown she wore. The same gown she had been wearing at her trial. He knew they would clean her up in the morning before taking her to the square, but right then she looked like the scum the kingdom thought (and knew) her to be.

“So why have you come, My Son? Why have you brought me my final meal? What have you to say to your poor mother?” Her tone was cruel, her eyes angry, but they didn’t touch him. He wouldn’t let them. She was a monster. She had stolen a father from him, and he would never forgive her for that. “What? Nothing to say? Don’t tell me you didn’t come down here just to _look_ at me?”

“Did you ever love me?”

The woman scoffed as she stood from her bed in the corner and sauntered forward. She grabbed the tray of food and walked back over to take a seat, not bothering to say anything as she did. But the look in her eyes said enough.

“Did you ever love Father?” That got a reaction.

“I would have given him everything if _he_ had loved _me_!” Her voice was a growl, almost feral and it made Damian take a step back. “I gave him everything! I gave him my life, my body, _you_! And he gave that…that…man everything he should have given to me! And now he will live the rest of his life miserable and alone. And when he dies, he will cement that loneliness for the rest of his lives.”

Damian knew she was referencing the curse his father had mentioned Madame Xanadu had done for her. Whatever the curse was, he knew his father would never say. He would eventually have to go to the source of it.

“But you would have given me to Nanda Parbat?” He questioned, wanting to know what had been promised to the king of her home country. His mother rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall as she took a bite of bread.

“Ra’s was a pawn. His rule is coming to an end and he is about to be overthrown.” That was curious. He hadn’t heard of any unrest in the kingdom, but he would file it away for his father later. Once this was over, he would make sure to mention it. “But you were my greatest piece. I had you primed to be my puppet once you took the throne at 25. I had your wife picked out. A meek no one from a small, desperate kingdom who we could overthrow if they turned us down. I had it all planned out. And then when our power was great enough,” she shrugged and smiled lazily at him, “who knows?”

And Damian felt his blood run cold. The words were unspoken, but he heard them loud and clear. She would have found a way to take the throne from him for herself. And though the thought that she could do that to her own child was terrible, he knew it never would have happened. A kingdom like Gotham would never have fallen like that. The citizens would never have allowed it.

 _“We remain in our throne because they allow us to. Never underestimate the power of a kingdom’s citizens. We work for them. Everything we do is for them. And if they do not like what we do, then they will take back the throne and give it to someone more worthy,”_ his father had told him when they had walked the streets one day. It was what set their kingdom apart from so many others. Their people had power.

“I die tomorrow with the satisfaction that your father will never have the happiness he seeks. That will be enough for me,” his mother broke through his thoughts. And Damian knew he had heard enough. Shaking his head, he turned and walked away from her cell toward the door where Ser Kyle was watching the exchange with sad eyes. “I will always be with you, My Son. You will never be rid of my lessons, no matter how hard you try. You are a Flores as much as a Wayne.” He ignored his mother’s calls as he reached his guard and waited for the man to open the door so he could leave.

He didn’t need to tell her that he was far more Todd than he was Flores.

It was enough that he knew it to be true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The knock on his door was loud in the quiet of his room, but he didn’t have the energy to see who was there. Instead he remained on his back, star fished on his bed, waiting to see if the person would enter any way or just leave. When a few beats passed and nothing happened, Damian assumed they had gone and allowed his eyes to slip shut again.

Until he heard the door being pushed open.

“Dami?” Jon’s voice reached him, hesitation clear. Opening his eyes again, he turned just his head to look at the sixteen-year-old as he stood just inside the room. He held the door in hand, peeking around the wood, ready to leave if it was demanded of him. Damian wasn’t sure if he wanted him to come or go, but whatever Jon saw on his face made the decision for him. 

He stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him before making his way over to the edge of the bed.

Damian just watched him come closer, not saying anything. Not moving a muscle outside of blinking and breathing. Even that felt like work at the moment. And he had no idea why he felt this way. He had no idea why he was grieving a woman who had never loved him the way he had wanted and needed her to. She had admitted to practically hating him when he had visited her before her execution.

But still, here he was heavy with grief.

“Can I do anything?” Jon asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Damian’s hands in both of his. Could he? Damian had no idea. Not when his own emotions made no sense to him.

So he said nothing and instead rolled onto his side toward Jon and sought comfort in the hands holding his own. He didn’t know if Jon would understand that him just being there was enough, but he hoped the older boy would. He hoped his friend understood that not having to pretend he wasn’t hurting was all that he really needed in that moment. And when Jon said nothing, only shifting to sit more comfortably on the bed, Damian knew he got it. 

He couldn’t be sure how long they remained there in the silence but somehow in the time Damian ended up with his head in Jon’s lap, face turned toward his stomach. And that was how his father found them when he knocked and entered the room.

“Oh Jon,” the king paused in mid-entrance, hesitating as he took in the position of the two of them. Damian turn in time to see something painful and soft cross the man’s features, but he wasn’t sure what about the situation causes either emotion. “I was just coming to see if you wanted to join us for tea or if you needed more time.”

Sighing, Damian pushed himself upright and pulled his hand away from the one that was still holding his while the other had been carding through his dark hair. “I suppose I should join.” He looked at Jon before looking back to his father.

“You don’t have to, Damian. I do not expect that of you.” And Damian knew that, but it didn’t mean that his mother’s influence had simply vanished with her death. It would take some time. Maybe not doing this was the first step in the direction of breaking that hold she had over him? He couldn’t be sure. There was so much uncertainty in his life now and he wondered if this was what a boat adrift felt like. “I’ll have your meals sent up here for the remainder of the day,” his father said softly. “Tomorrow you can let the staff know if you would like to return to meals with us or if you need more time. No one would blame you, My Son.”

But it felt wrong all the same.

Jon squeezed his hand in solidarity as Damian considered his father’s offer. After a few beats, Damian nodded and looked at his father. “I shall let them know after I wake and take my breakfast here as usual. Will you have Jon’s sent here as well? I don’t…”

“Of course. I’ll let Timothy and Kon know you are here, Jon,” his father agreed easily, smiling sadly at the two. But Damian could see the happiness under it. Whether it was because Damian had his friend or because he was admitting to needing the support, he wasn’t sure. But he was glad to see some form of happiness on the man after everything. And he was glad to know it was him who had done it. Without any hesitation, his father closed the remaining space and gave Damian a quick hug and pressed a kiss to his temple before heading out of the room.

“Is that okay?” Damian asked Jon, realizing he hadn’t exactly asked if the older teen would stay with him.

“I had no plans of going anywhere,” he said as he moved onto the bed so he could sit with his back to the headboard. With a simple gesture, Damian moved over next to him and placed his head back into Jon’s lap. With one hand still holding onto Damian’s, Jon used the other to go back to sliding through the dark locks of hair. “I am here as long as you need me to be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing back, Damian watched his uncles and Jon as they handed over belongings for the staff to pack away. He watched his grandfather speak with his uncle and Duke Kon turned to address the king. He didn’t know why he was keeping his distance, but he couldn’t bring himself to move any closer right then. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his uncle. And he really wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Jon and the comfort the other had provided him just yet. 

Almost as if he could read his thoughts, Damian watched his Uncle Timothy excuse himself and make his way over to where Damian currently stood.

“Nephew,” the older man greeted softly. And Damian, not quite trusting his own voice, remained silent and watched his uncle glance over at Jon. The elder teen was speaking animatedly with the king and the duke, something Damian couldn’t quite hear from this distance. “You could come with us? I am sure neither would be upset if we held off for you to pack some things.” Damian glanced over to his uncle before looking at his father.

“I cannot leave him alone right now,” he responded.

“He would tell you it is not your responsibility to look after him.”

Looking at his uncle, Damian shrugged. “Someone needs to. He will not show his pain to anyone else.” And his uncle signed, nodding.

“No, I suppose he will not.”

The silence felt heavy between them as they both turned to look at the others as they spoke. Damian, for all his desire to be near his father and Jon, could not get himself to move still. Jon had promised he would be there as long as Damian needed him to be, yet Damian was not ready to let the other teen go just yet. He wasn’t ready to go back to lonely nights in his room and quiet halls without Jon’s laughter to fill them.

He also didn’t understand why he was feeling so strongly about this.

“Dami!” Jon moved away from his uncle and Damian’s father and grandfather, stopping to stand in front of Damian. His uncle gave him one last hug before he moved away so the two teens could say their goodbyes in peace. “You will come visit soon, right?”

Damian nodded his head, but struggled to say anything in return. He wanted to go with them now, but he hadn’t been lying to his uncle when he had said he couldn’t.

“And you will write?” The question was hesitant, and Damian’s green eyes snapped back into focus at them.

“I promise. I won’t…not this time.” Not when his mother wasn’t there to force him to stop. There was no one else who would something so cruel of him. He knew that now, that what his mother had done was cruel. That her intention had been control and isolation. His father would never. “I will miss having you here.” It was hard to admit, but he felt it needed to be said. And when Jon surged forward to wrap him in a hug, Damian knew it was the right thing to say.

“I will miss you as well,” he whispered. Damian wrapped his arms around Jon’s middle and clung tightly to him, eyes closed and head buried in the crook of his shoulder. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but Father is getting anxious for us to return.” Damian nodded into his shoulder and tightened his arms slightly. He would miss this comfort.

“Jon, we must go,” Duke Kon called out, causing the pair to pull apart. None of the men watching them commented on the wet lashes and cheeks, but all could see it. 

Damian looked up at Jon and gave him one last smile. “I will see you soon, Jon. Safe travels.” The older teen nodded before hugging him one last time. Once he released Damian, he was rushing off toward the carriage where his travel companions waited for him. Damian didn’t acknowledge his father as the man stepped up beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He simply leaned into the man’s side and watched the caravan pull away as they gave one last wave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Damian has ever known is about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy chapter. Warnings at the end for those who need them.
> 
> This chapter is also completely new material. None of this has been previously mentioned or hinted at. The next couple of chapters will be that way since after Catalina's trial and death, we ended the last story. It's also going to hurt more before it gets better. Sorry!

“Your Highness, _please_ ,” the tutor begged for probably the tenth time of the session. But no matter how much he tried, Damian could not find the focus he needed. The seventeen-year-old had been struggling far more than he was willing to admit, even though his poor tutor was at his wits end with the lack of focus.

“I am sorry,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and setting his quill down. His hand immediately came up and rubbed at his forehead. “I’m trying, honestly. I just…” He looked away from the man and toward the chair where his mother had always sat during his lessons. It was the same chair that had always been there, and it hadn’t been moved, but for some reason the last few days it had been the center of his attention during each lesson.

His tutor sighed and stood, drawing green eyes from the chair back to the man. “I am going to go get a bite of food from the kitchens for you. Perhaps that will help you finish. We are almost done, Your Highness.” The man looked down at the parchment pointedly and Damian had the sense to look chastised.

“Yes, sir,” he picked his quill back up and dipped it into the ink so he could get back to working the figures on the page. It wasn’t like the work was boring, it wasn’t. Since his father had hired the man to take over his studies, he had finally felt challenged in his work. But it just wasn’t enough to get him to focus.

“My Son,” his father’s voice drew him out of his attempt to complete his work, and Damian knew his tutor would have probably quit right then and there if he had been in the room. “I just came across Lucius.” Damian cringed and looked at his father as the man took the seat his tutor had abandoned just a few minutes ago. “What is on your mind? He said you have been having a hard time the past couple of days. Is there something going on?”

Setting his quill down again, Damian looked down at the numbers on the parchment and tried to think of the best way to put how he had been feeling into words. He knew when the issue had started and he had a good idea as to what the problem was, but it didn’t make him feel any better about it. 

“Damian?”

Lifting his gaze to look at his father, he let his eyes flicker over to the chair briefly before looking back to the king. It wasn’t much of a movement, but it had been enough to have the man twist in his chair and look toward the chair by the window. Whether or not he knew what it was Damian had been looking at, he couldn’t tell when the sapphire eyes turned back to him.

“I overheard something in the streets the other day and I guess…” He looked back to the chair and pressed his lips together. “I cannot stop thinking about what was implied.” 

“And what is it you overheard?”

“Just a comment someone made when they saw me with Ser Kyle. I don’t think they meant anything by it, least of all for me to obsess about it, but I cannot get a thought out of my head. And every time I look at that chair, I remember.” He wanted to burn that chair. He had wanted to burn it since the first moment he had returned to his lessons after his mother’s death. 

A hand reached forward and rested on his arm, drawing Damian’s attention back to his father. “Damian, I just want to help. However that may be.”

The prince wilted a bit in his chair. “Are the people going to trust me when I take the throne despite who my mother was? Will they be able to trust the son of a traitor?” He couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting the surprise on his father’s face, but he hadn’t expected the anger that burned right after it.

“Who said this?”

“No one, Father, honestly. That wasn’t what they said. They said something about how hard it must have been to grow up under her influence and how it must have been such a battle between your influence and hers.” That seemed to calm his father down a bit, but there was still fire burning under it all. “It just set me down a path that I couldn’t stop and then the chair brought up a few unpleasant memories. I hate that chair,” he muttered, looking down at the table in shame. He should be stronger than this. But then he wondered if that was still his mother’s conditioning speaking. 

Scrubbing both hands over his face, Damian shot out of his chair and paced away from the table. He could still hear her voice, still knew all the things she drilled into him for years, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t help but always second guess his actions and whether or not she would have approved.

“I need you to listen to me, Damian,” his father’s voice was calm but authoritative and it caused Damian to pause in his pacing and look at the man. He stood still, back straight as he always did when his father did a formal address. “You are not your mother. You are not what she taught you. You make your own decisions and chose your own path. You are _good_. Do you hear me?” He paused and Damian nodded, knowing it was expected. “No, you do not believe me. Not yet. _You are good_. You. Are. Good.” It was almost painful to hear his father so adamant about it. “The people of this kingdom love you. They will rejoice when you take the throne just as they did when I took it. They do not look at you and see your mother.”

His father stood and made his way over to where he stood, stopping right in front of him and placing his hands on his shoulders before sliding them up to rest on either side of his neck. At the age of seventeen, he was shoulder to shoulder with the man and everyone had been saying that he would tower over him in no time. His uncle had laughed and said Damian stole the height genes from his grandfather, who had failed to pass them onto his own sons. It had made Damian’s chest puff slightly. His grandfather was formidable.

“You will be a _great_ king. You are a _good_ man. Nothing you do will ever convince me otherwise,” his father spoke softly, and it made Damian’s chest seize tightly. “I am so proud of you. And I know that she caused you a lot of pain and I tried so hard to shield you from as much of that as possible, but I know I could not always protect you. And for that I am sorry.”

“No, Father,” Damian tried to argue. He couldn’t remember a time when his father wasn’t fighting for or protecting him. 

“It is okay, My Son. I am no stranger to admitting my faults.” The words reminded Damian of a conversation long ago with Ser Jason about his father and being able to admit when he was wrong, but it still hurt to think of the man and their time together, so he pushed the thoughts aside quickly. “I love you so very much and I will never stop loving you. But you should know that when I look at you, I see far more of your father than your mother.” And Damian knew he wasn’t referring to himself right then.

And that thought broke something inside his chest, forcing him to surge forward and wrap his arms around his father’s chest. And, of course, his father effortlessly accepted the embrace. Because that was what he always did. Even when Damian had done something wrong, when he had broken the king’s trust somehow, he was always welcomed into his arms.

He hoped it never changed.

“This wasn’t the only reason I came in here today,” his father spoke softly without releasing him. “But perhaps it was just good timing on your Uncle Timothy’s end.” That caused Damian to pull back and look at his father. His uncle being brought up probably meant something regarding Jon. “You received a letter from Jon today and I have a feeling I know what it says.” He was handed a letter that had apparently been in his father’s inner breast pocket of his robe.

Damian took the letter and quickly broke the seal, taking in the familiar scrawl of his best friend. A quick scan revealed what his father was hinting toward and Damian looked over at the older man. “He wants me to come visit and to leave pretty much immediately. There’s some ceremony happening soon.” He watched his father nod, guarding his thoughts carefully. “You know what is happening?”

“I do,” he confirmed. “But your uncle asked me not to say if Jon didn’t tell you in his letter. I am not certain why, but perhaps he wants to tell you in person.” Damian looked back down to his letter and read it a bit more carefully. He saw his father move back to the table out of the corner of his eye, but kept his focus on the paper in hand, trying to figure out what Jon wasn’t telling him. But whatever it was, wasn’t hinted at anywhere in the letter itself. 

So Damian would just have to wait until he saw the other man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh good, you’re just about ready,” Jon’s voice sounded from his slightly open door and Damian looked over at him from his spot in front of a mirror where the local tailor was adjusting his formal wear. “We will be summoned soon, and I wanted to speak with you before,” the twenty year old said. The tailor gave his prince a nod before looking over Damian’s garments one more time. Damian took the moment to look over Jon.

He had been rushed into this room the moment he had stepped out of his carriage by Jon with the promise of an explanation as soon as they were both ready. Because there was some sort of ceremony and he had limited time to be sure he was dressed in the right kind of formal attire from Metropolis. And despite asking the tailor and the staff member who had fed him, no one would tell him exactly what it was that was happening. He was getting dressed for something he knew nothing about.

But now that he had the chance to look over his best friend, he could see subtle hints and he had a feeling what exactly was going to be said.

“You are without your crown,” Damian said, as though that would tell Jon exactly what he was thinking. The smile on the other man’s face told him he understood.

Thanking the tailor as he left the room, Jon moved closer as Damian stepped down from the stool he had been on for the last two hours. “You figured it out then?”

“Not until I saw you just now. I did not even notice it when you rushed me here earlier,” he admitted. “So you have made your decision then?” Jon nodded. “And today is for what?”

“My abdication and the crowning of Kon.” That was surprising. He hadn’t heard whisper of King Clark stepping down any time soon. “Father is tired, and he says he would like to rest his remaining days. Perhaps travel a bit. When he brought it up to me two weeks ago, I told him I did not want to be king.” Despite Jon having told him about this desire years ago, Damian hadn’t thought it would actually happen. He hadn’t thought Jon would walk away from his family legacy like that. 

“You are happy?” Jon’s smile was more telling than any words could ever be and that was enough for Damian. “I do have one question though,” he started as he moved over to where his own crown was waiting for him. “Why am I here and not my father?” Since he was not the king yet, it was somewhat irregular for him to be the one representing the kingdom at such a formal affair.

Jon moved silently and appeared in front of Damian as he turned to put it on his head, taking the crown from his hands. “I wanted you here,” Jon admitted softly, lifting the crown and placing it on Damian’s head. There was a moment of silence while Damian took in the meaning of his words and Jon adjusted the crown a bit. “You are my dearest friend, Damian. And this might be what I want, but I am still nervous how the people will react. I wanted your strength to support me.”

Damian gazed into Jon’s blue eyes, filled with earnest honesty, and considered the words. They filled him with a warmth he didn’t completely understand, but enjoyed all the same. Something similar to when his father told him he was proud of him, but not quite the same. Something special. Something he was glad his mother had failed at taking away from him.

“You have it,” he confirmed quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. But he did lift his hands to grip both of Jon’s wrists lightly, stopping him from adjusting the crown again. Now that Damian knew what to look for, he could definitely see Jon’s nerves shinning through.

The pair just looked at each other for a moment before breaking apart at the sound of a knock on the door. 

“Your Highness, His Majesty sent me to tell you it is time.” A servant stood in the doorway, giving a low bow. The woman looked them both over curiously but Jon just laughed and waved a hand.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “We are coming.” He gave Damian one last glance before leading him out of the room and down the hallway where the others were waiting. Just before they turned the last corner, Damian went against all of his instincts and grabbed Jon’s hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it as if he had never grabbed it to begin with. 

And though Jon made no move to act as though it happened, Damian could see the tense line of his shoulders relax a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to Gotham had been uneventful outside of the few stops they had made for lodging and the towns he had been able to wander around without anyone bothering him. He had managed to buy a few things for his father and aunt as well as some new toys for Titus and had had some good conversations with some of the citizens who hadn’t recognized him as their future king. 

It had been nice. To be almost ordinary.

Damian had assumed the final leg of their journey would be the same, hearing the call that they would be back to Bristol within the hour, he relaxed further into his seat and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what would be waiting him when he returned but enjoying the last bit of time without someone hovering or expecting something of him was what he wanted right then.

And he got that until about twenty minutes outside of the city limits when the carriage came to an abrupt halt and a few shouts sounded. Frowning, Damian sat up and glanced out the window at an angle, trying to see what was happening. When he couldn’t get a good view but could hear some muffled sounds, he pushed the door opened and started to get out.

“Your Highness! I need you to stay inside!” Ser Kyle came up beside the carriage on his horse and Damian frowned. “Please, you need to stay here.” Instead of speaking, he nodded and sat back down as his guard rode up ahead. And though he had planned to follow the instruction, the sound of arrows hitting the ground near him and the yelling of the men pulled him back out. If they were under attack, he would not be a sitting duck.

The scene he emerged to was utter chaos.

The soldier that had accompanied him to Metropolis were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with men dressed in all black. Men who spoke a familiar language and made Damian’s blood chill. Al Ghul soldiers in disguise.

“I told you to stay inside!” Ser Kyle appeared at his side, broadsword in hand, and no longer on his horse. 

“Give me a weapon,” Damian demanded. “I am not going to hide when our men are fighting with their lives to keep me safe. I am no coward.” Ser Kyle looked at him for a moment and Damian would have sworn the man was about to shove him back into the carriage, but instead he pulled a second sword out of his scabbard and gave it to him. With a nod, Damian turned to help the soldiers who seemed to be struggling the most.

He was immediately thankful for all the training Ser Jason had given him when he was younger. He had kept the training up after the Slayer’s death, but it would be his training that Damian would thank at the end of this. 

And so would the men as he struck down Al Ghul soldier after Al Ghul soldier.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, kneeling down to inspect one of the men who had been about to take a dying blow before Damian had intervened. The man nodded, leaning forward to examine a long cut to his leg. “Stay down.” Damian dropped the sword and removed his outer cloak, tearing a strip from it so he could wrap it around the man’s leg.

“Your Highness!” The soldier called in panic. Damian reached for the sword he had dropped and turned to meet whoever it was he was being warned about but was a split second too late.

He barely felt the sword sliding into his abdomen. But he saw the look of victory in the soldier’s eyes and knew that this was their endgame. Whatever it was they were ordered, Damian knew he wasn’t meant to be taken alive.

“Damian, no!” 

He couldn’t tell who had called him by name as he dropped the sword in his hand a second time, crumpling to the dirt as the Al Ghul soldier pulled the sword back out and tried to defend himself from whoever it was that had come to aide him. He groaned softly as a fire began burning in his stomach, placing a hand where the flame should have been but found nothing but a sticky substance that had not been there before. His mind told him it was blood, but there was some sort of disconnect.

He didn’t see the head of the enemy roll on the ground near his feet or the body crumple much like he did. All he saw was shadows around the edge of his vision as a familiar, panicked face entered his eyeline.

“Ser-” He choked on the word, coughing and gasping as the fire in his stomach grew.

“I’ve got you…just hold on…” The words sounded muffled, as if he were underwater but he tried to grasp their meaning. Tried to figure out what was happening beyond the all-consuming pain. He tried to focus on the fact that he was being picked up and soon slung over the back of one of the horses. Fragments of shouts broke through his haze, but not enough to make sense of. All he knew was in a matter of moments the horse was running full speed the direction that had been initially heading.

He saw the walls of home just as the blackness took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Consciousness returned to him slowly, duly. At first it was sounds. Muffled and thick. Then lights flickered beyond his eyes in sync with the sounds. And eventually, he blinked heavy eyelids open to stare up at a familiar ceiling. The room was quiet when he opened his eyes and though it felt like he could fall back asleep from the effort of his opening his eyes, he turned his head slowly to grasp what was wrong with him.

The sight of his father asleep in a chair pulled up beside his bed was not the sight he expected.

The man looked exhausted, even in sleep. The dark smudges under his eyes told of many sleepless nights. And the rumpled clothing spoke of days without changing or bathing. But why? Why did his father look like this while sleeping in a chair beside his son’s bed?

Turning his head to look around the room in an attempt to figure out what had happened, he shifted in an attempt to sit up. Then he remembered. The familiar fire that lit his entire stomach up in pain brought back the memory of a sword piercing him clean through.

His gasp of pain must have woken his father because a pair of familiar blue eyes came swimming into his vision. “Damian! Oh gods,” the man’s voice sounded wobbly and strained. “You’re awake. Thank the gods you’re awake. The doctors…” His father trailed off and Damian didn’t need to ask to know what the doctors had probably said. They had probably told him exactly what Damian had assumed would happen as Ser Kyle hefted him up onto the horse and rode them as fast as he could the last few miles.

Closing his eyes as his father ran a hand through his hair, Damian breathed through the pain before he tried to say anything. It took a few moments of him just breathing slowly and his father continuing to run his fingers through his hair before he felt like he could push through.

“How long?” He asked, voice stale from lack of use. That alone told a story.

“Four days. The healers worked tirelessly for the first day,” his father said as Damian felt the bed shift. He blinked his eyes back open and saw his father now sitting on the edge of the bed, holing his hand. “If Ser Kyle hadn’t acted so quickly…” He watched the older man shudder, eyes glazing over a bit with unshed tears. “He has been here frequently to check on you. Said that if you hadn’t stopped to help bandage a soldier’s leg to keep him from bleeding out that you never would have been struck.” There was pride in his voice and it made Damian smile.

“It’s what Father would have done.” That made the tears that his father had been holding back so far fall down his cheeks.

The older man let out a wet laugh and nodded. “Yes, it is exactly what he would have done,” he agreed, pressing his forehead against Damian’s briefly. “He would have been so proud to hear what you did. Ser Kyle said the men might not have stood a chance without your skill.” His father pulled back and Damian blinked up at him. “I should retrieve a healer to come examine you, but I am just so glad to see you awake.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Father,” he spoke softly, reaching up to grip the man’s forearm of the hand that was still pressed to his cheek. “I am a bit hungry. Do you think I would be allowed some food?”

“I am certain you’re famished!” His father laughed, less emotional now, and straightened. “I shall send word to the kitchens and to the healer to come at once. “You shall have to wait until the healer has a look at you before you can eat, just to be sure.” Damian nodded and watched the man head toward the door and step out to find a servant to retrieve the proper people.

When he returned, his father took the chair he had been previously sleeping in and looked at Damian seriously. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, but wondered if he could give his father the information he wanted.

“Now,” the man started, folding his hands in his lap. “Ser Kyle told me he thought the men who attacked you to be of Al Ghul. He said the language they spoke sound similar to what you both heard the day you followed Catalina into the Narrows.”

“It was the language of Nanda Parbat, yes,” Damian confirmed. His father nodded and remained quiet. “I did not catch what they were saying though, I am sorry. My Arabic is good but I was too focused on helping the men.”

“I had thought that would be the case.” His father sighed and slouched a little in his chair. “I do not know to what end they were heading, but I also do not know if we can prove it was them to the point that would warrant action.” And Damian had figured that much. Unless one of them had been caught, their garb and weapons were not of their usual soldiers and therefore would not be able to be traced back. 

“What of our men?”

His father regarded him for a moment before sighing again. “Three fell at the sword.” And Damian’s eyes fell closed at that. He said a silent prayer before he opened his eyes. “Their pyres?” His father shook his head.

“We wanted to wait to see if you would awaken so you could be there.” He felt relief and thankfulness at that. He would like to honor the ones who fell protecting him. “None of the men who attacked survived and they have already been put to rest. Ser Kyle and the others are adamant that none were able to get away.” But Damian knew that Ra’s would just send more if he felt so inclined.

“I would like to thank the surviving soldiers somehow.” His father raised a brow but did not look surprised. “I would also like to do something for the families of the fallen.”

“I have already thanked them personally in their homes and have made sure they are cared for.” Damian shook his head. “No?”

“I would like to do it. Perhaps a letter for now, but when I am able, I would like to visit them personally.”

His father leaned forward and took up his hand in both of his own. “We shall do that then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Go away,” Damian called, grumpy at the sound of the knock on his door. He was bored and annoyed. Each attempt at leaving his bed the past couple of days had been met with loud denials. He was never alone, and they never allowed him to do anything without someone there to support him. Damian was sure he was moments away from insanity.

And the last thing he wanted was another visitor to coddle him.

But when a familiar head poked through the opening of the door, Damian felt that annoyance fade away. “Jon,” he said, surprised to see his friend. “I was not aware you were coming?” He hadn’t sent any word to his friend about the incident and no one had said they had either.

“Damian,” his name came out relieved, reverent. Damian watched the man come into the room, shutting the door behind him before making his way over to the bed. He looked tired, as if he had come straight here upon arrival. Damian wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. “Your father sent word about what happened once you had woken up. I would have come sooner if we had known. I’m so glad you are all right.” Jon paused at the bedside, looking the younger man over with a critical eye.

“I am still sore, but the healers said I should recover completely. They said I was lucky, it could have been my spine.” The words were meant to calm Jon, but they seemed to deepen his frown. With a gentle pat of the bed, Damian gestured for Jon to join him up on the bed. There was some hesitation and Damian could see the debate happening in his friend’s head before Jon carefully climbed up to sit next to him.

Laying his hand palm up on the bed between them, Damian gave the silent invitation. And Jon, though hesitant to get on the bed, didn’t hesitate to take it in both of his. “I was so worried when I received the letter. Your father has never written me before and your uncle was so confused when he handed it over. He wanted to come but Kon still has so much to do and Timothy knew his consort couldn’t just leave him alone so soon.”

“I’ll write him a letter.” Jon nodded, gripping Damian’s hand tightly. “I’m okay, Jon. I promise. The pain is much more manageable now and though they won’t let me up without someone to hold onto, I am allowed to move around some. I will be back to full strength in no time.”

“Do they know who it was?”

“Al Ghul men.” Jon gasped. “They were in disguise though, so there is no way to really prove it. I recognized the language and the fighting style.” He thought about the look on the soldier’s face who stabbed him and frowned. He hadn’t told his father about that. According to the other soldiers, none of the attackers had survived and only three of their own had fallen, so it was much less tragic than it could have been. But Damian didn’t know how to take his Great Grandfather’s kingdom trying to assassinate him personally.

“Dames?” Jon’s voice cut through his thoughts, pulling green eyes away from the spot they had been staring at. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Damian considered the man before glancing at the door quickly to make sure it was closed completely.

“Can you keep a secret?” Jon hesitated, but nodded after a moment. “I do not believe the attack was random. The man who,” he gestured to his stomach so he didn’t have to say the words, “the look on his face…he looked like he had won.” He watched Jon frown, consider his words, and then clench his jaw.

“You have not told this to anyone?” Damian shook his head. “You cannot keep this a secret, Damian! Nanda Parbat tried to assassinate the Crown Prince! They are not a kingdom to give up after one failed attempt. You need to be protected!” Jon moved to get off the bed but Damian held tight to his hand and refused to let him go. “Damian, please! I refuse to keep a secret that could result in your death. I refuse to do nothing and have it result in your death.”

“Jon, please,” he begged. “We cannot go to war with Nanda Parbat. I cannot have our citizens dying because that country wants me to. I will not be the cause of that.”

“But what if they succeed next time? What happens then? Are we just supposed to go forward without you? Your father has already lost enough.” That stung and Damian knew he was right, but it didn’t mean he liked it. It didn’t mean Damian didn’t think he was making the right decision at keeping this quiet. 

“And the families who would lose husbands, sons, brothers, wives, daughters, and sisters? What of them?”

“That’s not fair, Damian. War always has casualties.”

“But there doesn’t have to be a war, Jon. That is what I’m saying.” Jon looked at him with that familiar frustrated face and Damian couldn’t help but wonder if he had gotten through to the other man.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Ask anything else of me, but do not ask me to keep a secret that will get the man I love killed.”

Damian jerked in surprise, releasing his grip on Jon’s hand without meaning to. “What?”

He watched Jon’s face go from confusion to understanding to something painful in the span of a few heartbeats and Damian wondered what exactly was going through his head. “I-” He started but cut himself off to back up a few steps. Damian sat up a bit more and watched him carefully. “I did not mean to say that. I shouldn’t have.”

“Why?”

“Because while I do not have the obligation of a crown any longer, your own crown has limitations.” Damian thought of his father and Ser Jason, how they had loved each other so much but were not allowed to be together because of the laws. And not just the Law of Old that did not allow a Slayer and a Ruler to marry. But the laws of the people that required a ruler to marry someone who could possibly provide an heir. “But more than that, you have never given any indication of feeling so inclined and I did not want my own feelings to pressure you.”

Looking away from Jon, Damian leaned back in his spot against the headboard of his bed and considered what his closest friend was saying. How did Damian feel? He had never considered Jon as anything more than a friend because he was right, Jon wasn’t an option for him to marry.

But he also wasn’t sure that would change if the laws didn’t prevent him from choosing Jon over all others. 

Did he love Jon? Yes, he was his closest friend and Damian valued their friendship over all others. Did he love Jon in the way Jon loved him? He couldn’t say. He couldn’t pinpoint what love actually felt like outside of family. He had seen love between his father and Ser Jason, but it had been so hidden from the world that Damian wondered if even he was seeing the real thing. He saw his grandfather and his wife, Selina, and though it differed from his fathers, the love was still obvious.

“Damian,” Jon’s voice drew his attention. Looking over at his best friend, Damian frowned. “Do not tell me anything you do not mean. I can see your wheels turning, but do not prematurely tell me how you feel.”

Nodding his head, Damian looked away for a moment before looking back to Jon. “I do not know how to respond to you. You are my dearest friend, but I do not know more than that. Even if I did…” Jon nodded, but Damian could see the tears brimming in his eyes. It made Damian’s chest ache.

“I am going to return home.” When Damian opened his mouth to protest, Jon held up a hand and sent him a pleading look. “I am glad you are on the mend. And no matter what conclusion you come to, I will always be your friend. I was prepared for that years ago.”

“Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“I think my presence would just serve to be more confusing than anything.” And yes, Damian could see how that would be true. “Please forgive me for saying this, but now that it’s out I would like to say it with meaning just once more.” Damian held his breath. “I love you Damian Wayne, Crown Prince of Gotham. I have for many years and I will for many more to come. I will respect whatever decision you come to, but my heart will always belong to you.”

Clenching his jaw to keep himself from begging Jon to stay, Damian gave a bow of his head. He kept it lowered until he heard his door click shut. The silence that followed felt heavier than Damian had ever known it to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waving off the offered arm of Ser Kyle, Damian slowly made his way to the main dining room where he knew his family had gathered for breakfast. They weren’t expecting him, and while he usually took his breakfast in his rooms, the conversation with Jon the night before had left him lonely. He was hoping some time with his grandparents, aunt, and father would eliminate that feeling.

“Oh brother, surely you can do better than that,” his aunt’s laughter spilled out into the hallway as he reached the open doors of the room. His father’s followed closely with a deeper chuckle Damian knew to be his grandfathers. 

The ache in his chest abated slightly at the sound.

“Damian!” His father’s surprised call rang out and the room went quiet. Carefully, Damian shuffled to the seat to the right of his father that was always empty for him in particular and waited for Ser Kyle to pull it out so he could sit. “How are you feeling this morning? Jon rushed out of here last night, stating he had only the time to check on you briefly and needed to get back to Metropolis.”

“Yes, he said he there was still much King Kon was adjusting to since the crowning,” he said, inwardly cringing at the partial lie. Jon had told him that, but he had said nothing about needing to be involved in any of it himself. 

“And you, Grandson?”

Looking over at his grandfather, who was seated across from him with Selina by his side, Damian nodded. “I am well. The pain is hardly noticeable today.” His eyes flickered to Selina who was watching him curiously before looking at his aunt who was seated next to him. “Aunt Cass,” he greeted when she sent him a knowing smile. He hated that smile. The one that said she knew more than everyone else.

But thankfully he was saved from having to dissect it when a servant placed a plate in front of him, filled with the same items that would have been brought to his rooms for him. A tea cup with his favorite blend followed immediately and Damian reached for it without second thought.

If only for something to do with his hands.

“Well, if I had known you would be joining us, I would have waited to eat,” his father commented, glancing down at his empty plate. “But I do not have any responsibilities for a bit, I will remain with you.” He gestured to one of the servants to bring him more tea and Damian sighed quietly in relief. He knew he had been late, but he hadn’t expected to see the empty plates in front of each person.

“I, however, do,” his aunt commented as she stood. Damian said nothing as she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head before stepping away from the table.

“Do wait for me, Daughter,” his grandfather stood before turning to help Selina out of her chair. “I wished to speak with Ser Harper about a few things.” Damian took a bite of his bread as his grandfather spoke quietly to his wife, who nodded and gave him a quick kiss before saying her farewells for the morning and hurrying out of the room. “Grandson, Son, I should like to take afternoon tea with you both today.”

“Of course, Father,” his father responded easily and Damian gave a smile when his grandfather looked at him to confirm. “I shall have everything sent to Damian’s sitting room so he does not have to travel far.”

“A fair plan.” His grandfather gave a bow of his head before heading toward the door where his aunt stood waiting for him.

“Now,” his father started, drawing Damian’s eye, “why did Jon really leave?”

“What makes you believe he was not telling the truth?” Damian asked, trying to desperately hold onto the lie. But he knew his father better than that. And the look on the older man’s face told him that his father knew he knew that. “We…had a disagreement. And he said something that he did not mean to say. He left to give me time to come to terms with it.”

He looked down at his plate, shifting the fruits and cheeses around with his hands so he would not have to look at his father. He knew the older man was far more observant than anyone ever gave him credit for and he wouldn’t put it past him to know exactly what Jon had revealed to him.

“Can you say what he told you?”

Damian shook his head. He didn’t want to say it. He had pondered it all night and still he found himself without any kind of truth of his own.

“And I assume you do not know how you feel in return?”

“I do not,” he admitted quietly, finally returning his eyes back to his father. “But even if I did, what could come of it? When I am bound to the same laws as you and all those before us.” He watched his father’s eyes turn sad and it struck something deep in his chest. Down where the ache had settled when Jon had left the night before.

His father reached over and placed a hand on his forearm, gently pausing the motions of moving his food around. “I cannot tell you what it is you feel, but I can tell you the denying yourself that emotion because of something as trivial as a law about marrying someone of the same gender, is not the wise thing to do.”

“You did,” he pointed out.

“I did, but Jason and I had more than just one law working against us,” his father said. “And I am not my father. We are very different in our core values and where he had his expectations, I do not have those. Not when it comes to you.” 

“But your expectations do not change the law. How can I expect the kingdom to follow my rule if I do not abide by the law?” His father’s laugh surprised him, turning the corners of his mouth down as he tried to figure out exactly what his father found amusing.

The older man laughed for a moment longer, releasing Damian’s forearm to wipe at his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “I am sorry, My Son,” he gasped around his laughter. “I am not laughing at you. I said something very similar to Jason when we faced the prospect of me having to marry someone to carry on the Wayne line for me. And though it is not funny, you just reminded me of times so much simpler.”

He didn’t see why the comment had amused his father so much, but he could admit he was glad to see his father smiling in such a way. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard the man laugh so freely, so openly. 

A few beats of silence passed between them before his father took a sip of his tea and Damian went back to picking at his food. 

“How do I know? How can I be sure of what it is I feel?” He gathered the courage to ask before shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth to keep from saying more.

“Well, I am no expert on the subject, but I suppose the best way to know is figure out how you might feel should you never see him again,” his father offered, his eyes gazing off into the distance in a way all too familiar. The look that told Damian he was thinking of his own lost love. “How might you feel if you were to see him with another? Would you be happy for him?”

Damian watched him for a moment before looking down at his plate and considering the questioned as he took a few more bites. He pictured Jon with some faceless woman, smiling and warm. He pictured him doting over her, tending to her every need and whim. He could see the smile his best friend would give away so freely, the loving look in his eye, and the warmth on his cheeks. He could picture it so perfectly that his hand involuntarily clenched one of the berries in his fist, squirting the juice from between his fingers.

“I do believe you have your answer.” His father’s voice was gentle, but when Damian looked away from his hand still dripping in the red liquid, he saw the amusement dancing in his eyes. “I am happy for you, Damian. I truly am. Please do not worry yourself about the laws and just try to enjoy the feeling for a while. There is nothing that can compare. And though it may be fleeting, it will always be worth it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Will you stand still, please,” Aunt Cass’s voice called to Damian as he turned and began making his way back down the hallway. They had been outside of his father’s room for the past hour, waiting for the doctors to examine him after he had collapsed in the Council meeting earlier and Damian knew he was anything but calm at the moment. “Your pacing will not make their diagnosis come any quicker.” 

Scowling, he moved to lean against the wall opposite of the double doors.

It had been two weeks since the conversation he and his father had had regarding his feelings for Jon and Damian had struggled with knowing exactly what to do. He had received news of his father just as he was finishing a letter, asking Jon to come back so they could speak. Then the guard had appeared at his door. The letter now lay forgotten on his desk as he rushed to where he now stood waiting.

Just when he was about to start pacing again, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hall and pull both sets of eyes toward them. Damian immediately straightened when he noticed who it was, but Cass just sighed in what he assumed was relief.

“Grandfather,” Damian greeted. The older man, grayed and weathered with age, stopped in front of Damian and placed a hand on the shoulder that was almost equal height to his own. 

“What have we heard?”

“Nothing as of yet,” Aunt Cass answered, and his grandfather frowned. “I told Damian he could go in, that Richard would not mind, but…” 

Damian sent a glare toward her before looking back to his grandfather. “I didn’t want to intrude on his privacy.” His grandfather grunted before giving his shoulder a squeeze and moving toward the heavy doors. He gave the door two solid knocks before he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.

“That could have been you.”

“It doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t like me to see those moments.”

“He doesn’t want you to worry. But in this instance, you are worrying all the same.” He knew his father didn’t like people to fuss over him, that he always thought there were more important matters to attend to. But Damian had always been one of the only people the King allowed to see him at his weakest. He could still remember the moments in the sept with just his father as they mourned the man the King had loved. The man Damian had thought of as a second father. The moments they got before his grandfather had come rushing in and tried to comfort his son.

He remembered the pain in his chest when they had watched the pyre burn and when they laid the Dragon Slayer to rest in his crypt. The one with an empty space right next to it for the man who had been looking more and more tired over the last few months. 

“Damian,” the gruff voice of his grandfather broke through his musings. “The doctors are finishing up and Richard is asking for you. Cassandra, please send word to your brother that Richard has fallen ill, and he should come.”

If his grandfather was sending for his uncle, then that meant it was serious. That meant that Damian was looking at losing is last parent. 

“Grandfather?” He questioned weakly. The older man looked down at him sadly but said nothing as he ushered him into the room. Damian’s eyes scanned the room quickly, taking in the various doctors moving about. Two were in the corner, speaking in hushed tones. One was at a table looking over various bottles and herbs, frowning and mumbling to himself. And one stood near the head of his father’s bed. The same bed where his father currently lay, pale, with a damp cloth laid out over his forehead. “Father?” Damian spoke softly, hoping the man was not sleeping and him waking him.

“Son,” his father responded, his voice sounding off but not as weak as Damian had assumed it would. He raised a hand and beckoned Damian closer. It took a nudge from his grandfather before he closed the remaining space to the bed. With a welcoming gesture from the older man, Damian climbed up onto it, sitting next to his father who was in the act of being propped up. “Tell us, Healer Thompkins.”

The woman healer that had already been at his bedside, sighed and looked the two newcomers over before looking back at the king. “Your Majesty, we do not know what is wrong. I have all the notes from your previous visits with me and I have conferred with the others, but we do not know why you are fading.”

“Fading?” Damian questioned without thinking. It didn’t sound like a particularly medical term.

“Yes, fading,” the healer nodded. “Your father has been coming to see me for a few years now and has been in decline for the past year more than the previous ones. There is nothing to account for it, but it is happening. I will tell you just as I have been telling him, it could change for the better any day now. Since we do not know what is happening, we cannot say whether it is permanent or not.” 

Damian frowned and looked over at his father, who was watching the healer as she spoke more. He could see how tired the man was and he knew that the past few years he had begun to feel the loneliness without Ser Jason, but other than that he had never heard his father complain. Not about how he was feeling, at least. But he could see it. He could see how…dull the man looked. Even engaged in a conversation that now included his grandfather and another healer, he looked a shade of the man he had always known his father to be.

The conversation between the four other people swirled around him, but Damian ignored it. He ignored it because he knew no matter what hope the healers tried to give them, he was going to be saying his final goodbyes to his last parent sooner rather than later. He knew his grandfather knew it as well, otherwise he would not have sent his aunt to send for his uncle. 

And the thought of his uncle brought the thought of Jon to the forefront of his mind, making him wish for the other man’s presence right then. What a comfort he would be. He wondered if he could rush to catch the letter before his aunt sent it, asking that Jon accompany his uncle to Gotham. But it was selfish to ask when he hadn’t made any decisions in regards to his newly understood affections for the former Crowned Prince. It wasn’t fair to ask Jon to comfort him when Damian could not tell him with certainty what it is he wanted.

“Damian,” his grandfather’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling his gaze to look into the crystal blue eyes of the older man. “We should allow your father to rest.” Looking down at his father, Damian furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to lose more time with the man that he was uncertain of how much longer he would have with him.

“You can stay, Dami,” his father smiled, clearly reading his thoughts as he always did. “I am going to sleep, but you are always welcome to remain with me.” Nodding his head, Damian looked back to his grandfather, who sighed and gave a bow of his head. There was some sort of emotion on the elder man’s face when he regarded the two of them, but Damian wasn’t sure what it meant so he disregarded it. 

The pair of them watched the room slowly clear out. One of the servants set a tray down with some tea for the two of them should they want it before offering to take Titus on a walk. Damian thanked her, but remained in his spot as the rest of the healers made their way out of the room with their things. When the last of the staff had left, the room fell silent as the door shut and Damian stared at it as his mind began to race with all the things he wanted to say.

“You left your charcoals and pages over by the balcony the other day.” Jerking in slight surprise, he looked down at his father as the man shuffled further down the bed in a more reclined position. “I hope you do not mind, but I looked through some of them. They are beautiful. You have a rare talent. I hope when your duties become…more _substantial_ that you will not let your art be forgotten.”

Damian frowned down at the man who looked far too relaxed given the news they just received. “Father…” He tried to say, his eyes filling with tears as he tried to get the right words out.

“I know, My Son,” the man nodded, taking hold of Damian’s hand. “I know. But I am not gone yet and I do not plan to before I complete a few tasks. You still have me yet.”

“But it is not long enough.”

“It never is, sadly.” And his father did sound sad. Just as sad as he had sounded the day Damian found him in the Sept mourning the man he had loved most of his life. “But it will have to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Council, I move we abolish the letter of the law that demands a ruler marry someone who has the possibility of providing an heir,” his father’s voice called out from his spot at the head of the table. The room went silent at the request and when Damian glanced around, he could see the surprise on each Councilmember’s face.

“My King?” One of the Councilwomen from the lower regions of the kingdom questioned. “You have an heir and Prince Damian is too young to be worrying about potential marriages, is he not?” A few of the members looked over at him but Damian’s eyes were on his father.

“You all know what the former queen did to Ser Jason Todd. Most of you are privy to the fact that I married her simply because the Laws of Old and the Law of the People did not allow me to marry Ser Todd instead.” There were some murmurs, but no one spoke up. “I am not asking to abolish the Law of Old as the slayer line has ended and it is not an issue any longer. I am simply asking to allow any future ruler the luxury of marrying someone they _truly_ love. Or someone they feel they could come to love.” The man paused and pushed to his feet, looking over at Damian and giving him a smile that actually reached his eyes for once. “I am asking that you allow my son to marry whoever his heart desires and not someone for the simple fact that they can produce him an heir.”

The room remained silent for a few beats before hushed conversations broke out across the table as the members discussed it with one another. But Damian could only focus on his father because he knew exactly why his father had made this request. Jon. There was no solution that ended with them together unless Damian stepped down from the line of succession and his aunt stepped up. But his father had done whatever he could to be sure his siblings would never had to make a sacrifice they did not want to make. 

And for his aunt, that had been the choice not to marry.

Though their father had arranged a marriage of the people for her, when his father had taken the crown he had given the choice to his aunt. And she had requested the right to refuse to marry. Though the former king objected loudly, his father had granted her the right and it had been done. If Damian stepped down, his aunt would have to marry. So Damian would not take that gift away from her.

But it meant he could not be with Jon because he did not want what his father had gone through with Ser Jason and his mother. He did not want a marriage of convenience and a lover on the side. He did not want that for Jon.

So he had made the decision to tell Jon that he cared for him but could not be with him. He had made the decision to choose duty over heart.

“Councilmembers,” his father called them all to attention again, waiting for the conversations to pause before he continued. “I am asking this as an urgent request as I have had news from my healers that I am not long for this world.” The shouts of surprise did not surprise Damian but the ache in his chest increased at them. He watched his father hold up a hand to halt anyone wanted to question him. “A few of you are already aware of it, but it is a fact. I do not know how much longer I have and I would very much like to spend what time I do have left knowing I was able to make this possible for my son and the future rulers.”

“I second the motion to abolish the Law of the People requiring a ruler to marry a person who could physically provide them with an heir,” one of the oldest councilmembers stood shakily. Damian looked at the older man and smiled when the man gave him a significant look and a nod. 

“I third the motion,” one of the councilwomen called out, standing.

“All those in favor say aye,” the older man called out. He was followed with a chorus of ‘ayes’ before Damian turned to look back to his father. The man had taken his seat again and was looking a bit paler than he had before, but he also looked happy. “The motion has been approved. I will alert the clerks of the law to make the amendments.” His father gave a nod of thanks. 

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back before another voice called out. “Given what we have learned today,” Damian looked over to see the newest member of the council standing. She was a brilliant woman from the city that was a representative for the people themselves. Barbara. Her fiery hair matched her personality. His father had liked her immediately and so had Damian. “I believe we should discuss having Prince Damian crowned before the usual age of 25.”

“Yes,” his father agreed. Damian looked at the man with wide eyes, not having really made the connection of what his father’s passing would mean for him outside of the loss of a parent. “You are ready, Damian. There is little more I can do to prepare you for your role,” his father said softly to him, easily spotting his worry. 

“Sooner rather than later, My King?” His father looked back to the woman and nodded. “I shall gather the necessary staff and prepare for the ceremony. A week’s time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian receives a major injury in this chapter but it's not graphic. And near the ending of this chapter we start to address Dick's upcoming death. Yes, it is coming. And it's going to hurt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the really heavy angst. I am sorry for this chapter. It is not fully edited yet but I will get to it soon. There is some really sweet fluff in here, but it's mostly really sad. Next chapter super fluffy! Chapter 8 will also be the last chapter of the past.

Damian hesitated outside of the small shop Victor had directed him to as Madame Xanadu’s storefront and home. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting to happen in there, but he was nervous all the same. This woman knew secrets that Victor and his father had been unwilling to share. His father had said there was no point in burdening his heart and Victor had simply said it was not his secret to share.

So that was how he ended up making his way into the lower levels of the city with Victor just behind him.

“You do not have to do this,” the guard told him, looking at him from his post near the door. “Your father is not wrong. You do not need this burden.”

“And what would you do in my place?” 

Victor was silent for a beat before sighing, nodding his head in agreement. “I, too, would want to know. But knowing what the truth is, I would also wish I didn’t.”

“You are entirely unhelpful.” Victor shrugged before reaching out and opening the door for Damian, taking the decision out of his hands. With a glare and then a sigh, Damian slipped into the shop and straightened his spine in preparation.

“Your Highness,” a gentle voice greeted him. Turning he spotted the woman with pale skin and kind eyes. “I did wonder when you would make your way to me. I could not see that future very clearly. But at this time, it does make sense.”

Damian considered her closely, frowning at her words. She didn’t look exactly like he had imagined, but he wasn’t really sure what he had been expecting to begin with. He could feel the power coming off of her though and wondered if everyone could feel how strongly it resonated with her. Glancing around the room, he took in the various potions and vials. There an entire wall covered with powers and other items, that he assumed she used to make her goods. A small portion of wall was comprised of books and Damian was curious what was written within their leather bounds.

“Have you come to me for a reason, Your Highness?”

Clearing his throat, Damian pulled his eyes away from her belongings to look at her again. “Yes, I have come to discuss my father.”

“Hmm,” Xanadu hummed, nodding sadly. “The country will be in heavy mourning sooner rather than later.” Damian’s jaw clenched. He knew that, but no one had been willing to say it up until now. His grandfather had been silent on all of it and the doctors had tried to give them hope. But Damian knew the truth. He had been watching it happen for years.

“It is a broken heart, isn’t it?” The woman hummed again, and Damian felt as though a hand had gripped his heart. “Ever since that day, he seemed to be only a shade of the man he was with Ser Jason. He did try so hard to keep it hidden. To remain strong. Those nights we sat together were not enough to quell his pain.”

“It never is,” she confirmed. And Damian had figured. Though he had never addressed the man as such, he had always thought of him as another father. And it had been difficult to light his pyre and mourn him. To this day, his heart still ached with that loss. But he knew it was so much more painful for his father. Damian had never known that kind of love, not yet at least, but he had seen its rarity and beauty through the two of them. “But this is not why you have come to see me, is it Your Highness?”

“It is not,” he confirmed. “Do you have somewhere more private we can discuss this? Or is it safe here?” She tilted her head and he waited, watching her watch him. Then she waved him forward and he followed her through a curtain covered doorway into a back room. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell of fresh rain. It was so striking and so surprising, it made him pause. It was all he smelled despite the two separate tables covered with various substances and mixing bowls. The next thing he noticed was the fact that he could no longer hear the outside world. It was silent.

“An enchantment,” Madame Xanadu explained when he turned questioning eyes onto her. “The scent can be too strong most of the time and the sounds distracting. No one can hear us either. So, you may speak freely here.” She gestured to a stool as she sat on another one. He nodded and took a seat, back ramrod straight as he steeled himself. “Now, what is it you wish to know?”

Taking a deep breath, Damian let it out slowly. “My mother,” he started, watching her closely. “She had a part in Ser Jason’s death.” The woman only nodded. “Did you?”

“No,” she said simply. 

“But you knew of her involvement in his death?”

“Not until after it had happened. She went outside of our city in order to seek the help she needed. I do not have the kind of power required and none, including myself, in Gotham who do would have done what she wanted.”

Damian considered that a positive at least. His father and Ser Jason were at least loved enough to inspire that kind of loyalty. 

“And before you ask, Your Highness, I do not know who she got to do her bidding. I would have told your father if I had. They, too, should be brought to justice.” Sighing, Damian slouched slightly in defeat. He thought maybe he could make something right in a situation where he had no control. “Do you want to know the whole story of your mother’s deeds?”

“I do, if you would be willing to tell me.” The woman regarded him for a moment before nodding and gesturing for Damian to sit on one of the stools. Once he was comfortable as he could be, she went to her table and began sorting through some dried plants.

“Your mother came to me when you were about the age of eleven,” she talked as she worked with her items and Damian’s eyes tracked her movements with thinly veiled curiosity. “Though disguised, I am skilled at the art of aura reading and hers was always quite…demanding, I suppose you could say.” That seemed about right. The woman had been known for her headstrong nature. “But I played her game and listened to her woes.

“She spun a tale of a man she wed and gave an heir, a man she had fallen in love with but who had not fallen in love with her. She made mention of a man her husband loved but could not be with for family and duty. She said she knew her husband could love her if only this man were not around. That was when I told her I would not kill for her, no matter what she paid me, and she asked for a compromise. She asked for a curse that would destine them to always be within reach of the other, but never be allowed to really be with one another.”

Damian gripped the edge of the seat he was on and clenched his jaw. He knew his mother was mean spirited, but he had never known her to be outright cruel. She had asked to strip two men who loved each other of the chance to love each other freely and wholly. “And you did what she asked?”

“I did,” she looked up at Damian with a sad nod. “I did because I knew she was desperate enough to go to another if I did not.” His shoulders lowered as he sighed and nodded. She certainly would have. “I gave her what she wanted with a stipulation attached to it.” Straightening his spine back up, Damian held his breath. This sounded like hope.

“I told her I would make the curse for her but should one of them fall before the age of ten and six that the curse would be broken and they would be reunited.” 

Furrowing his brow, Damian tried to decipher that. “Reunited as in the next life?” 

“That is not for me to say.”

“But you do know?”

“I do,” she confirmed. “But as I told your father, they have many lifetimes of suffering between them before they will finally be allowed to be together. From that day and all lifetimes after it.” It was a minor comfort to know she had at least seen it. He was sure his father had felt the same. “I did do your father a favor when I told him of his wife’s hand in his lover’s death. I gave him a potion to take that would separate the thread between him and your mother until the lifetime they are to be reunited.”

“And he took it.” It wasn’t a question. Damian knew there would be no chance his father would not want his former wife’s presence gone from his world for as long as possible. But that left his existence in question then. “What does that mean for me?”

Xanadu didn’t answer immediately. Instead she placed her various plants she had been grinding down into a fine powder into a vial before adding some liquid to it and stirring it together, whispering words that seemed to ignite whatever was in there and turned the liquid from clear to blood red.

“For you, my future king,” she said as she capped the vial with a small cork, “it means that you will not be of his blood. But your presence is in as many of his lives that I have been given insight to.” She rounded the table and Damian slipped off the stool to stand when she stopped in front of him. 

“Will they remember? Will any of us remember?”

“To an extent all of you mortals remember your previous lives. Perhaps not always evident, but they linger just below the surface of your minds.” The act of keeping herself out of the “mortals” comment did not surpass him, but he knew better than to question. Instead, he thought about the pain his father and Ser Jason were to face with lifetimes of loving each other but not being able to be with one another.

“Can you make us forget? Can you spare them the pain that would come with the curse?” He questioned her, though part of him wondered if she already knew he was going to ask. “Please, I’ll pay you whatever you require. Please do not make them carry that pain into each life.”

She held out the vial of blood red liquid and Damian hesitated a moment before he took it into his palm. It was warm to the touch and the power within the glass made him clench his jaw. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew this was the answer he sought.

“Your payment?”

Holding up a hand, Madame Xanadu shook her head. “I require nothing. But be sure you give this to him before you are crowned. I do not know how much longer he will be with us.”

Clenching his hand around the vial, Damian gave her a bow. “Thank you.” Her soft laughter caused him to jerk upright in surprise.

“I apologize, Your Highness. I just see so much of your father in you. Bowing to a lowly healer, imagine.” She chuckled as she moved toward the entrance that would take them back out to the main shop and Damian followed. “Before you are crowned, do not forget.” He gave a nod as they stepped into the main room and toward the exit where he knew Ser Victor would be waiting.

“Thank you for telling me, Madame. You owe me nothing, but now I owe you much. Please call on me should you find yourself in need of my service.” He gave another bow, much to her apparent amusement, before stepping out of the store. “Come, Ser Victor. I desire some tea with Father.”

The soldier looked at the prince before looking back to the shop in confusion. Damian raised a brow in question and watched as the man shrugged and gestured for Damian to lead the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Richard, honestly,” Damian could hear his Uncle Timothy berating his father on the other side of the room, but he tried to block the two men out as he continued to run his quill across the parchment. He had started and stopped the letter to Jon far too many times now and had decided to simply write whatever came to mind and hope that it made sense to the other man.

He had been putting off requesting the other man’s presence since finding out about his father’s illness, but he wanted the older man there when he was crowned in less than a week’s time. 

“Nephew, please. I require your assistance…” His uncle’s voice came closer until he was standing beside where Damian was seated. When his words trailed off, Damian glanced up and found the man’s blue eyes on the letter. 

“What do you require of me, Uncle?” Damian asked, not bothering to hide the contents of the letter. He did not for a moment think his uncle wasn’t aware of Jon’s feelings and what had transpired between them when Jon had shown up before abruptly leaving the same day.

The man looked at him with a sort of understanding in his eyes and Damian held his breath for a moment. “He will not hesitate to come once you ask him to. But I do not know that he will make it in time for the crowing, Nephew. Not if your rider does not wear his horse out.” 

Damian nodded, knowing the rider needed to leave soon if there were to be any hope, but he didn’t say anything.

“Now, I cannot for the life of me get your father to eat.” Damian frowned and looked over at the man. His father was wrapped in a warm blanket despite the warm early summer day and him being on the window seat, basking in the sunlight. “No matter what I try, he tells me he is not hungry. I do not think he has eaten since yesterday morning.”

“No, he probably hasn’t,” Damian spoke softly. “And I do not know that I will be able to influence him any more than you can, Uncle. But I shall try. Might I finish this letter first?” His uncle smiled and squeezed his shoulder before walking back over to where the king was seated. 

Damian watched them for a moment longer before turning back to finish the letter begging Jon to come. _Father is sick_ and _I am to be crowned early and would like you there_ scrawled across the page, conveying his pain and desperate need for his best friend. He did not mention the change of law his father had done for them or the fact that he had figured out his own feelings for the man. He simply requested his presence in one of the most painful and trying times of his life.

“I shall be back in a moment,” Damian called to the two men, who nodded in response, before hurrying out of the room to find his usual rider. He spoke quickly with the man and requested he take the fastest horse, even if it were one of Damian’s or the king’s. The man agreed and accepted the letter before turning to head back to the study where his uncle and father waited.

“Your Highness!” Frowning, Damian turned to see his rider rushing back toward him with someone just behind him. “Perhaps you might give the letter to Prince Jon yourself,” the rider teased, handing the letter back just as Damian realized it was Jon who was there.

He stood frozen with the letter in hand as his rider made his exit and Jon closed the remaining distance between them. There were no words, no vocal greeting, and no warning before Jon was engulfing him in a tight embrace. Damian didn’t hesitate in returning the embrace, sinking into the familiar feel of Jon’s lithe form and the familiarity of his scent. He took the comfort he didn’t allow others to give him.

The silence stretched between them but felt comfortable and familiar.

But eventually Damian’s sense of duty took over and he pulled back to look at Jon. Though having hit his final growth spurt and gaining his final inches that put him above his father’s height and just below his grandfather’s, Damian found he still had to look up at Jon.

“What…how…?” Damian tried to think of the right question, but he wasn’t sure what he was trying to ask. 

“Your father wrote to me,” Jon told him, placing a hand on Damian’s cheek. Damian’s eyes slipped shut at the feel of his thumb brushing against his cheekbone. How had he never noticed this…this _energy_ between them? How had he never felt this charge to his heart that felt so familiar? Had he been feeling it all this time without realizing? Perhaps that was why it didn’t surprise him. “Damian…” Blinking his eyes open, he looked up to see the sadness he felt reflected in Jon’s eyes. 

Raising his hand and gripping Jon’s wrist, Damian turned his face and kissed the inside of Jon’s wrist. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered against the delicate skin there. Turning to look back at Jon, he smiled softly at the look of shock that had taken over his features. “The rider who led you here was on his way to deliver you a letter,” Damian told him, holding up the parchment folded and sealed with his personal seal and green wax. “We have much to talk about, but it was I who required your strength this time.”

“You have it,” Jon said immediately, no hesitation as his eyes searched Damian’s. And Damian knew he was probably desperate for answers, but he also knew he needed to get back to his father and uncle before his uncle came searching for him. 

“I need to return to my father and our uncle. Will you join us? Perhaps your presence will do him some good.” Jon nodded but Damian could see the question in his eyes. “After…we will talk. I promise.” Though it wasn’t much, it appeared to be enough for Jon. Sighing, Damian pulled Jon’s hand away from his face and laced their fingers together before leading them back to the study where the other two men were waiting.

“Jon!” His father called out as soon as they stepped into the room. Damian watched his uncle rush to help his brother stand to greet the prince but Jon released Damian’s hand and rushed forward.

“Please, Your Majesty,” he chided the older man, pushing him to sit back down. The king laughed softly but followed the silent command.

“Nephew,” Damian’s uncle greeted Jon with a hug before sending Damian an amused look. “That letter worked more quickly than I thought it would,” the man teased Damian and Jon let out a laugh of his own when he glanced over at the other prince.

“Yes, well,” Damian cleared his throat and moved over to his father’s side. “I am famished. Shall we call for lunch?” He gave his father a look that was met with amused annoyance, but a nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you,” Damian said quietly to the servant who had brought the tray with tea for himself and Jon to share while they had the talk Damian had promised they would.

“Do you require anything else, Your Highness?” Damian glanced at Jon who was seated across from him in the study. The man smiled but shook his head. 

Damian looked back to the woman and shook his head as well. “Please tell Ser Kyle not to allow anyone to disturb us unless it is about Father.” The woman looked at him sadly, but nodded her head before bowing and exiting the room. He kept his eyes on the door for a moment before leaning back in his chair with a sigh and looking toward Jon. He wasn’t surprised to find the prince regarding him closely, but he didn’t have the energy to try and discern what exactly the man was thinking. “I am glad you have come,” he broke the silence.

“I would have rushed if your letter had been the first to reach me, to be sure I arrived in time.” And Damian knew he would have. It was why he had written to begin with. Damian would have done the same, _had_ done the same. “I find myself unable to say no to you most of the time.”

“I can say the same in regard to you,” Damian admitted, a small smile slipping into place. “I can say much of the same things you seem to be able to say about me.” Jon’s eyebrow raised and a curious look took over his features, but he remained silent. It was as if he knew Damian needed to be able to get this out in his own time. “I should have sent word to you the day you left. I should have called you back then, once I had come to understand what it was I felt toward you.” Perhaps then he wouldn’t have felt so alone when he learned it was only a matter of time before he lost his father. 

He watched Jon lean forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. Damian tracked the movement with interest. “And what have you come to understand?” 

“That you are the very air I breathe,” he spoke softly, but with surety. This was his moment to prove to Jon that it wasn’t a passing fancy and that no one had influenced him to feel this way. That he was being more honest and open than he had ever allowed himself to be. “That the mere thought of you looking at someone else the way you look at me would be as painful as if you were to steal my heart from my chest. I do not know how I missed it and I cannot for the life of me figure out for how long I have been blind to that… _look_ upon your face.” He watched Jon’s smile grow, a laugh slipping easily from his lips and Damian felt his own smile grow to match it.

Sitting up straighter, he looked at Jon earnestly. “I am in love with you Prince Jon of House Kent. I am in love with you and would be foolish to allow you to ever think I am anything less then completely lost without you.” And though he saw it coming in the tensing of his body, Damian still allowed himself to be somewhat surprised to have Jon pushed out of his seat and pull Damian out of his. There was a split-second moment where Jon smiled down at him, open and happy, before he pressed his lips to Damian’s. 

And though there was so much going on in his world, he allowed Jon to pull him into this moment of oblivion. He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of Jon’s soft lips and warm body pressed against him. He allowed himself to enjoy the shiver of excitement he felt at the feel of Jon’s hand gripping the small hairs at the back of his neck. He let his own hands grip Jon’s hips, pulling him even closer.

“I didn’t want to hope,” Jon whispered, pulling back just enough for them to breathe and look into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t dare hope you would come to this conclusion because I did not think I could survive it if you didn’t.”

Damian raised one of his hands and brushed his fingers along Jon’s cheek before letting his hand cup the side of his face gently. “How could I feel anything else? How could I do anything but love the one person who is not obligated to love me, but does so freely and willingly?” Jon’s eyes turned watery and his laugh was enough to send Damian’s stomach tumbling and a terrible fluttering to overtake his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian remained still while Stu finished the final alterations to the royal robes and just watched the man work. He listened to him go on about his grandchildren and how he was fairly sure this would be his final crowning ceremony he worked on because his old bones ached. Damian laughed and told the man he would outlive them all, but the older man just waved off the words and gathered up his things to put back into his case.

“I do believe my work is done,” the man said, looking over his work with a nod. “You will make a wonderful king, Your Highness.” Damian looked at himself in the looking glass and swallowed down the tears that tried to push forward. “I do wish it were under better circumstances, but I am certain he has no doubts about what great things you shall accomplish.”

Looking down at the man, Damian gave a weak smile. “Thank you,” voice hoarse and tight. The older man just smiled, gave his cheek a pat and grabbed his things. Soon enough Damian found himself alone in the room just off the main hall where the ceremony would be taking place. He could hear the servants bustling about the halls as they prepared for tomorrow and all Damian wanted to do was curl up in his father’s bed and give into the tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

“Look at you,” a voice broke through his inner turmoil and Damian turned quickly to find his father in the doorway. He was surprised at how healthy the older man looked, but Damian wasn’t fooled. He knew Madame Xanadu had visited him the day before. He knew the healer had probably given him something to help him get through the next few days. “I thought we might have a talk since neither of us is needed elsewhere until dinner.”

Nodding, Damian moved over to sit on the plush bench in the room. He watched his father shut the door behind him and move over to sit down next to him with a tired smile. Whatever the woman had done for his father might have those who did not know him fooled, but the rest of them could tell. They could see the weariness and pain in his eyes. The pinched look of his smile that was usually so open and bright. He was a fraction of the man he used to be, the man Damian worshiped and strove so hard to be like. The best kind of man that he could only hope to make proud one day.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” His father questioned, watching him closely as he always did when he wanted to be sure Damian was telling him the truth.

But Damian didn’t need to lie about this. “No, I have spent too many years with this as my goal.” That seemed to shift something in his father’s eyes and Damian wished he had chosen his words more carefully. “I only mean to say that Mother was so focused on preparing me for the crown it would be surprising if I felt unprepared to take the throne. So no, I am not nervous to be crowned.”

“I sense a but coming.”

“But I am nervous to not have you here to look to when I am faced with something I am not certain how to handle. Father,” Damian leaned forward and gripped the older man’s hands and looking him straight in the eye, “is there nothing to be done? I know Madame Xanadu called upon you yesterday. Surely there must be _something_ she can do. All that power and she cannot find a way to heal you?”

The king remained silent for a few moments before sighing and Damian knew. He just knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. “I do not want her to,” his father admitted, and Damian pulled his hands away as if he had been burned. “Please do not be angry with me, My Son. I couldn’t stand that.”

“Then why? Why would you be perfectly fine with leaving your family behind before your time? How can you be okay leaving me behind?”

“Because I know you will be okay.” Damian shook his head as tears burned his eyes. Tears he had only allowed to fall a small handful of times in the private company of his father or Jon. No one else had been allowed to see them fall thus far. “I am broken, Damian. I have been for some years now. Even before I lost your father. I tried to shield you from so much and there is much you have no inkling of that has done nothing but worn me down over the years. When Jason was here, I had someone to share those…woes with. But since he has been gone, I have not wanted to burden anyone with that weight.”

“But it would not be a burden for your family. Please, Father,” Damian begged. He closed his eyes when one of the king’s hands came up and cupped his cheek. “Please.”

“I would stay for you if you asked it of me and truly meant it.” Damian’s eyes snapped open and his brow furrowed. Was that not what he was currently asking his father? Was that not exactly what he had been saying? “You do not mean it. I know you think you do, but I know your heart. I know you would regret asking this of me in a few years’ time and that guilt would eat away at you.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but he processed what his father was saying. Would he feel that way? Would he feel guilty for asking the man to stay just so he would have him around? But that just spurned more questions. Did his father not deserve to rest? Did he not deserve to have the weight of all he had endured over his lifetime lifted so he might start anew?

“I see the truth in your eyes.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Damian blinked back the tears that still threatened to fall. “Do you know when? Do you know how soon you will leave us?”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at his father when the man sighed and let his hand slip away from Damian’s cheek. “I do know, and I will not tell you. I do not want you focused on that. I want you to enjoy what we have remaining.”

That was fair. Even Damian knew he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else if he knew.

“I know it is not fair,” his father spoke softly, and Damian was surprised to see tears brimming his father’s eyes. “But I am glad to leave you with someone like Jon to love you. I am glad I was able to remove the obstacle keeping you from being with him. And all future rulers, whoever they may be.”

Leaning forward, Damian embraced his father tightly and closed his eyes tightly. “Thank you for being the best man I have ever known. Thank you for protecting me and loving me as you have. I can only hope that my children will feel as loved as you always allowed me to feel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had never noticed the intricate details carved into the wood of the doors to the grand ballroom where his crowning was about to take place. Dragons and knights, crowns and scepters all seamlessly coming together as they surrounded the crest of Gotham. He wasn’t sure how he had never noticed it, but it was hard to miss as he stood waiting for his entrance to be announced to the full room. A room filled with royals, commoners, and everything in between. And the courtyard of the castle was filled with even more, the sounds of them excitedly waiting for him to step out to greet them as their king. His father had made a passing comment about how he was fairly certain Damian had drawn a larger crowd than Richard himself.

Damian didn’t believe that for a moment, but he appreciated the effort.

“It is time, Your Highness,” Ser Kyle said as he came up beside the prince. Damian looked over at him and nodded. “Good luck.” And with that the two doors were opened to reveal the inside of the ballroom.

“His Highness, Crown Prince Damian Wayne of Gotham,” the Herald called out as Damian steadily made his way down the center aisle of the room with his head held high. He made eye contact with a few familiar faces before his eyes landed on Jon, who was beaming from his spot next to his father, the former king of Metropolis. With a slight quirk of his lip, Damian turned his eyes to the two people waiting him at the top of the small set of steps that led to the rostrum. 

The Archbishop stood with his hands clasped in front of his familiar gold and white robes, embroidery of Wayne blue making intricate patterns along the thick material. The man was one Damian had been familiar with since he had been the one who had crowned his father and grandfather. And Damian knew this would likely be his final coronation.

Next to him, his father stood in his royal robes that were not so dissimilar to the ones Damian wore currently. Though his black and blue were a contrast to Damian’s chosen green and black. The wink of red clasping both of their cloaks in place at the base of their throats was a decision made just between the two of them. A nod to the man who should be there with them but was taken from them. Damian let his eyes slide up to the crown adorning his father’s head that would soon be resting on his own head and steeled his spine.

He came to a stop at the foot of the steps that would take him up to where the two men stood with the all too familiar throne between them. The throne that, like the crown on his father’s head, would soon be his. Though, thankfully, not something he would have to sit on all that often. Only for ceremonial and formal affairs, two things that happened particularly sparingly in their kingdom since his father had taken the crown. From what his father and most of the others said, his grandfather had been much more formal with his proceedings. Damian was not yet sure where he would fall on that scale. He could see the appeal in formalities, but he also enjoyed the more friendly state of things he had experienced over his eighteen years.

“Prince Damian, please join us,” the Archbishop said as Damian gave the formal bow of respect. He took the stairs on steady feet and head held high. He could see the look of pride on his father’s face and it just steadied his resolve even more. “Please place your hand on the Book of the Law of Old.” Raising his right hand, Damian set it carefully on the book of the original laws of their people. Recite after me.” And so he did. He repeated the promise to protect the people as though they were his own blood. He repeated that he would be just and rule with the knowledge that the entire kingdom was important and not just the ones who could contribute. He promised to care for the elderly and raise up the poor. He promised to follow the laws laid down by the rulers before him. And lastly, he promised to put Gotham before his own pride always.

“Damian of House Wayne,” his father said in a strong voice, “I grant you this crown before your time as my own time has come to pass. I bestow upon you the faith of the people and the love of the kingdom. I crown you in good faith that you are the rightful ruler of the people and will love them above all else.” Damian looked at his father with a nod before turning to face the crowd that was watching them. He sat down on the throne and waited for his father to place the crown upon his head. 

“I, Damian of House Wayne, accept this burden and promise to wield my power justly and wisely. I thank the people for trusting me with this crown and acknowledge that they are the true power in this kingdom,” he spoke calmly, letting his voice carry. He watched his father descend the stairs and join the rest of his family.

“All hail Damian, King of Gotham!” His father called out, smile wider and brighter than Damian had seen in a long time. The rest of the crowd followed suit and called out the hail, but his eyes remained on his father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His room was dark and silent when his eyes opened, unsure of what had startled him into waking. But there was something, an irritation on his mind that demanded his attention. Sitting up, Damian tossed the thin sheet covering him to the side and turn to allow his legs to hang over the side of the bed. Scanning the room, he couldn’t find anything that would have caused him to awaken.

But he knew there was a reason. He knew it.

So he slipped out of the bed and grabbed his robe, wrapping it around himself and making his way over to his door. With a firm tug, he pulled it open and was surprised to find Ser Kyle there with his hand raised to knock.

“Ser Kyle!” Damian exclaimed, sounding as surprised as he was sure he looked.

“Your Majesty, your father is calling for you.” His tone was grave, full of sorrow and Damian hated it. He hated that he knew exactly why his father would summon him in the middle of the night. But he also knew this was exactly why he had awoken. He was to get his final goodbye. “Your Majesty?”

Swallowing, Damian gave a nod of his head and followed the knight through the halls toward his father’s rooms. They had moved the man from the King Chambers the day before the coronation despite Damian having told them it was unnecessary. But his father had only laughed at him and told the staff to continue on.

 _“You are to be king, you must uphold tradition and move into the King’s Chambers. I will not hear otherwise. And neither will your grandfather and we all know how he can be about tradition.”_ His father had whispered the last part to him, but the effect was ruined with the laughter in his voice. And though Damian knew he meant what he said, he also knew his father did not want to die in those rooms. He would be selfless enough to not ruin Damian’s future room with his death. 

And Damian had appreciated that.

“Will you inform Prince Jon,” Damian requested when they had reached his father’s room. The knight looked uncertain but gave a nod. “Tell him to remain where he is, but inform him of what is happening.” With a bow, Ser Kyle gave him one last look of sympathy before he turned and headed toward the guest rooms where Jon and his father were staying.

Taking a deep breath, Damian gave a gentle knock to the door as he pushed it open and slipped inside. He took in the sight of Healer Thompkins as she spoke softly to his father, but her lack of equipment just served to confirm his suspicions. 

This was the night he would lose his final parent.

“Your Majesty,” the healer greeted him softly, bowing as well as her older body allowed before straightening and moving forward to his side. “I can see in your eyes that you understand why you have been summoned in the middle of the night.”

Damian nodded.

“I do not know how much longer, but he is certain it is to be soon.” The tears burned his eyes and he welcomed them like an old friend. “I am sorry I could not prevent this from happening, My King.”

Damian shook his head and took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t have allowed it,” he spoke softly, glancing over at his father who was watching the exchange from his place on the bed. “This was his wish.” The woman gave him a sad smile and nodded. “Thank you for caring for him as well as he allowed.”

The woman gave another bow before she glanced back over to the former king and then headed for the door. Damian waited for the click of the door closing to sound before he closed the remaining distance between himself and the bed where his father laid.

“My Son,” his father’s voice sounded weak, as though it had been unused for quite some time. It was a stark contrast to how it sounded just at dinner earlier in the evening. The former king offered up a hand and Damian immediately latched onto it with both of his as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I do not have much left to say to you except that I am so very proud of the man I see in you.” He watched his father take a few stuttering breaths and Damian clung to his hand more tightly, silently willing the older body to take strength from his younger one. A few beats passed before it looked like his father would be able to speak again, but he remained silent and simply smiled at Damian. 

Damian didn’t deny the tears that came forward, not this time. There was no reason to hide them, no reason to be strong in this moment. So he let them fall with a quiet sob as his chin dropped to his chest. Saying goodbye to Ser Jason had been hard, but he had already died. He had never thought about how it would be to watch the life of someone he loved slipping away from them with each passing moment. And now that he was facing one of those moments, he wasn’t sure he could actually watch it happen. His entire body begged for him to flee, to run away and not stop until this moment could no longer haunt him. But his heart told him he would suffer this a thousand times over because it was _his father_. It was the one man who had always done everything he possibly could for Damian. The one man who had put him above all others and never expected him to be more than he was and loved him as he was.

And now he was expected to go on without that love in his life. He was expected to just move forward and be the king the country needed when he just wanted to be an eighteen-year-old who needed his father.

“Please Father,” he sobbed, falling forward so that his forehead was pressed into the older man’s ribs. “I am not ready to say goodbye. I have not… _please_ …” He begged, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was begging for. Because he knew he had relented to his father’s wishes of this being his time to go, but he still found himself unable to say that final goodbye.

Damian turned his face to looked at the man when a hand fell heavy onto his head. “You are more than what she wanted you to be, Damian. Do not ever forget that we choose who we are to be.” Damian nodded through his tears, his cheek rubbing against the sheet covering his father’s body. “Be strong and just like your father but remember to love those around you even when they seem to fall short.”

“I will. I will strive to be like you. To be kind and generous.”

“Strive to be like _you_ , My Son. Be who you are in your heart. I would not leave if I thought you were not perfect just as you are.” Damian wanted to argue, but he remained silent. He was not his father, but he could strive to be no matter what the older man was saying. “Marry Jon, okay? Do not wait, do not hesitate. Give him the ring in the top left drawer of my desk in my study. It was one I gave your father many years ago even though we were not as fortunate as you. To be able to be with the one you love. Do what I could not.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I love you more than words could ever say. Remember that in the remainder of this life and all the ones to follow.”

Turning his head to bury his face in his father’s side again, Damian’s sobs came out in gasping breaths. “I love you,” he cried into the sheet. “I love you so much.” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how else to vocalize his devotion to the older man. The man who had given everything to make sure Damian grew into a good person. Who had sacrificed his own happiness for so many others. The man who had changed so many lives at the sake of his own. “Tell Father I love him as well,” he whispered, turning to look at the man, but finding his eyes closed.

Pushing up, Damian looked down at the man and took in the stillness of his body. He looked where the hand that had been resting on his head had fallen onto his father’s chest and noticed the lack of rise and fall.

“Be at peace,” he choked out, dropping his chin to his chest again as the tears came in earnest once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon’s presence just behind his right shoulder was solid and steady, something Damian appreciated greatly in the moment because he was certain he would have collapsed already without it. The crowd that had gathered for his father’s pyre was no surprising in the least and far larger than the one they had done for Ser Jason. Not because his father was more loved, but because he was a great king and news of his death had drawn in villagers from all over the kingdom. 

“How am I to address these people here?” He asked Jon quietly, glancing at the man briefly before looking back out to the crowd. The Archbishop was giving his blessing over the body before it was time for Damian to speak and light the pyre. But he had no idea what to say.

“Just say what is in your heart, Love.” Just like that. Such a simple concept but his heart was too heavy for simple. “They are hurting, and they just want to hear that their emotions are valid. You are their king, but they all understand that you were also a son.” Glancing over at Jon, Damian furrowed his brows, but Jon just raised a hand and let it fall heavy, comforting, onto the back of Damian’s neck.

“Grandson,” his grandfather’s bulking form came up beside him. “I can make the speech if you need.” It was the out he craved, the excuse to keep his grief quiet and only shown to those who knew him best. But he could hear his father’s voice in the back of his mind that this ceremony was not about his grief. That he would have the raising of the effigy with just the family for that. This ceremony and the Feast were about the people.

“No,” Damian looked over at the older man. “It is my duty, and he would not want me to turn my back on the people.” His grandfather regarded him carefully before giving a nod and stepping back over to where Selina and the other members of the family were standing. He could see his uncle watching him, eyes sad in a way Damian had never seen. But Damian couldn’t focus on that right then. He had to focus on the task at hand. He had to focus on putting the hearts of the people at ease when his own heart was in turmoil.

With a glance from the Archbishop, Damian gave a bow of his head in respect before he stepped forward. The movement pulled Jon’s hand away from his nape and Damian immediately missed the comforting warmth of it, but instead of rushing back like he wanted to he pushed forward. He could do this and then Jon would be there at the end.

Stepping onto the raised platform, Damian looked around at the faces of the people who had gathered. As far as he could see, in every possible space between here and the walls, there were people who had loved his father. People who had known him for the good man he was, the kind and giving king. The man who had loved his people enough to walk among them as if it were nothing. The man who had raised his son to regard the people in the same manner.

Glancing back at Jon, he clenched his jaw when the man simply held a hand over his heart and gave him a nod. But he still had no idea what that meant. Turning back to look at the expectant faces below him, Damian shook his head. “I have not a single idea of what to say to all of you who have gathered here. I am not eloquent like my father was and I am not experienced the way my grandfather is. I wish I could say beautiful words that would warm you in this cold time, but I do not know them,” he admitted, his voice carrying over the crowd as they stood silent. He could see the looks of confusion, but there were also looks of understanding. And he could latch onto those. “My father was the best man any of us have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He was kind and he was generous, but more than that he was _love_. And he had so much love to give. Not just to me or the others in our family, but to each of you as well.

“I cannot convey how much he cared for each and every one of the citizens under his rule. He sacrificed so much so that he could be the ruler you, the people, needed. Most of all, he gave to everyone without expecting the same in return,” Damian swallowed, taking a split second to push back the tears that were trying to force their way out. “The loss we have suffered is great. And I know it might seem like things will never be the same or that we have lost…some of the color in the world, but we will recover.” He lifted his chin and took a deep breath.

Reaching for the torch that Ser Roy held in hand, Damian stepped up to his father’s body and looked at the familiar face. “We can never replace someone like Richard of House Wayne, there is no one else who can come close to the kind of man he was. He is irreplaceable. But his influence and his teachings live in all of us and through that we can strive to be just as good and kind as he was. We can strive to be what he knew we could be.” Lifting the torch high into the air, Damian looked out at the people who watched him with rapt attention.

“To King Richard, the best of us all. May we spend each day striving to be the person he believed each and every one of us could be.” _May I be the man he thought me to be._ With one last deep breath, Damian looked back down to his father’s resting form and touched the torch to the hay lining the pyre. He took a moment to watch the fire burn before he turned and found his grandfather already waiting to take the torch from him.

The man gave him a firm nod, his face a mask of strength that his eyes did not fall in line with. Through them Damian could see the grief the man was feeling, laying his eldest son to rest far too soon. But there was an unspoken understanding between them. A father and a son, both grieving one of the most important people in their lives.

With the torch passed, Damian made his way back to his spot, Jon immediately slipping his hand into Damian’s. And though it was not necessarily proper, Damian couldn’t find it in himself to care. Instead he focused on the comfort it provided as he watched the pyre light consume it’s victim.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold air hit him like a slap to the face, but it was a feeling Damian welcomed in that moment. The ballroom was crowded with citizens and travelers who had come to join in the Feast of the Seven, and the warmth had been almost suffocating. The spirit of the room was joyous, as a Feast always should be, but he had been struggling to really feel the same joy the others were experiencing as they celebrated his father. So, he had excused himself from the room and stepped out into the gardens, a place his father had loved and often could be found tending despite them having staff members to do just that.

Tilting his head back, Damian took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the cold air chilled his lungs before he slowly released it.

“Your Majesty,” a voice greeted him, causing Damian to stiffen as he opened his eyes and looked behind him to see who had joined him. He watched the woman give a bow but something about her presence told him he should probably be bowing to her. He took in her raven hair, cut so it just brushed the tops of her shoulders, reminded him of the color of his father’s hair. And though it was fairly dark with only a few torches lighting the walkway, he could see the deep blue, almost purple color of her eyes. But it was the jewel resting just above the space between her eyebrows that really caught his eye. 

Even from where he stood, he could feel its power. And the blood red color of it said it wasn’t gentle power either.

“Do I know you?” He questioned, eyes narrowed.

The woman shook her head and took a few steps closer. “I am called Raven,” she told him. Damian’s eyebrows raised at the strange name and lack of any kind of surname or name of her family attached to it. “I came here seeking Madame Xanadu and she pointed me in your direction to deliver my knowledge. I had thought it best to have a familiar face give it to you, but she disagreed.”

At least her connection to the healer of the city explained why Raven did not bother with any family names or titles. But he couldn’t imagine what kind of information she might have that the healer thought he would like to know.

“What knowledge have you come to bestow on me?” He kept his tone even, not sure he should trust this woman or not. But he knew his guards were close and he was more than capable of defending himself. But if she were a practitioner like Madame Xanadu then he wasn’t sure anyone would be able to save him.

“I have traveled from Nanda Parbat with news of your great grandfather’s rule.” Damian sucked in a surprised breath and waited, knowing this was important. That despite evidence, it was Ra’s who had ordered him to be killed. “Your grandmother’s sister, Nyssa, has dethroned him and he has been laid to rest. The magic keeping him alive has been destroyed.”

Considering what this meant, Damian felt a small weight lift off his chest. A weight he hadn’t noticed sitting there under all the other things burdening him. “So the order…”

“The one for your life?” Damian nodded. “Nyssa has rescinded it and sends her word that peace remains between Gotham and Nanda Parbat for as long as she is on the throne.” A folded parchment was held out to him and he immediately recognized the seal of Nanda Parbat. He took it from her and held it by both ends, looking down at it. “Nyssa has also destroyed the legacy of Ra’s by removing the title of Ra’s Al Ghul and stating that the ruler shall hence forth be called by their own name or one of their choosing.”

“Was a strange tradition,” he muttered and was surprised when a laugh slipped past Raven’s lips. She seemed equally as startled and quickly cleared her throat, but it was too late. Damian was smiling and had relaxed the remaining tension in his shoulders. “Thank you for bringing such glad tidings during such a…” He looked past her toward the crowded ballroom and frowned.

“Yes, I was saddened to hear of Richard’s passing. The few times I had spoken to him, he was exceedingly kind. The world shall be a little darker without his aura to brighten it.” Looking back to Raven, Damian nodded sadly. “You have such an aura as well, Your Majesty. Do not let this dim it. He would not want it.”

“No, I do not think he would.” Glancing down at the parchment in hand, Damian sighed before looking back to Raven but jerked when he found himself alone. He glanced around, finding no trace of the woman at all.

“Damian, there you are!” Jon’s voice called out as he came walking out of the ballroom. “Damian? Is everything all right?” He asked as he neared the younger man, but Damian wasn’t sure how to answer him. Did he tell Jon about Raven? Would he believe him? And even as he thought it, he knew it was ridiculous to question. _Of course_ Jon would believe him.

“I just had a strange encounter with a practitioner who knew Father,” he explained, looking up at Jon with wide eyes that expressed his bewilderment. Holding up that parchment, he showed Jon the seal.

“That is Nanda Parbat.”

“It is,” Damian confirmed. “She brought tidings from Queen Nyssa and word that the order for my life has been lifted.” Jon’s eyes widened in shock before a relieved smile broke out over his face. And soon enough, Damian found himself encased in Jon’s arms.

“That is wonderful news!” And it was, it really was. “A bit of light in a dark time. I wish I could thank this messenger,” Jon said as he pulled back and glanced around as if he would spot Raven where Damian had been unable to. “I do believe we should drink to this news, yes?”

Looking at the letter again, Damian found himself nodding and feeling a bit lighter. “Yes, a drink would be suitable.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was warm for the time of year, but Damian found himself welcoming it. And enjoying it at the insistence of Jon, who had shown up at his study with Titus and a basket full of food and a blanket. And though Damian knew he had much more he needed to get through before Council later in the day, he allowed Jon to pull him away from it and take him on a picnic.

Now he found himself relaxed on the blanket while Titus and Jon chased each other around the field and for the first time in the weeks following his father’s death, he felt joy. The sound of Jon’s surprised laugh when Titus tackled him into the tall grass brought an easy smile to his face that didn’t feel as though it was a lie or a façade.

“What?” He questioned when he found Jon regarding him from where he was still seated in the grass, Titus having gone off to chase a bird. He watched the older man shake his head as he stood and brushed himself off.

“I think that is the first smile I have seen on your face since…” He made his way over to the blanket and dropped down next to Damian, not bothering to finish his sentence. But Damian understood all the same. “It has been missed,” he commented softly, raising his hand and brushing the backs of his fingers across Damian’s cheekbone.

Ducking his head at the affection from Jon, Damian attempted to get his emotions under control. But the warmth that had bloomed in his chest at Jon’s words and meaning was something he had yet to get used to and it caught him off guard every time. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was not something he had yet come to terms with. And Damian was not good with things that he was unsure of how to handle. Not when he was still struggling to get out of the constant vigilant headspace his mother had conditioned him to be in.

“I have been meaning to ask you something,” Damian changed the subject, thankful for the understanding he saw on Jon’s features when he looked back up at the man. The single raised brow gave Damian to go ahead to ask what he had been thinking of. “How long will you stay? I know you mentioned new duties for Metropolis, but I was not certain when they might pull you away.”

He watched Jon smile easily as he leaned back onto his hands and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Trying to be rid of me, Your Majesty?” And though Damian knew it was a joke, he still cringed at the playful accusation. “I am only joking, my love. But I hadn’t really contemplated it yet,” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulder. “Kon told me he would send for me if he required me, but Timothy told me it was not likely it would happen.”

Damian considered the answer and what exactly it could mean for them. If Jon’s duties were easily set aside, then it was likely he wouldn’t be missed if he remained away for a long period of time. At the same time, Damian felt a little bad about keeping him from his family for as long as he had. Even if his father had been here for the coronation and then the death of the former king.

“Is there a reason you ask?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Damian tried to think of an answer that didn’t give his personal desires away. Did he admit to Jon that he never wanted the older man to leave? Did he tell him that it was his intention to have him stay at his side forever? “I was simply wondering…” He attempted to say, but even in his own eyes it sounded like a lie. And the snort Jon proved that the other man didn’t believe it for a moment. 

But instead of calling Damian out on his lie, Jon simply gave him a knowing smile and got back to his feet. He called Titus over as he stepped away from the blanket and took a large stick the dog had managed to find and threw it out into the distance for the dog to chase. Damian remained in his spot, watching the two repeat the action over and over and allowed his mind to drift. 

He allowed himself to think of what it would be like to have to bid farewell to Jon when he finally needed to return to Metropolis for his duties or family. He thought about the loneliness that would surely follow in his absence and how he might handle that. But then he thought about what he could do to ensure that Jon stayed. He thought about just asking him outright to remain at his side and abandon his duties back home. Though Damian knew that unless he had a good reason, Jon would never just abandon his family. And Damian could never ask that of him just because he would miss the other man. But still the thought of going about his daily tasks without Jon, without the unfailing support the other had been providing since his arrival, struck him hard and fast in the heart. The dread was almost palpable. He could practically taste it. And that frightened him.

When had he become so dependent on Jon? When had he lost his ability to stand on his own?

_When you fell in love._

The thought appeared out of nowhere and the voice in his mind sounded just as his father would have. And the more he considered what his father might have to say about this moment, the more sure he was of exactly what his father would tell him. He knew precisely what his father would offer up as a solution. But were they ready? Was _he_ ready?

Looking over to Jon, where he stood laughing as Titus jumped in an attempt to get the stick out of Jon’s hand, Damian knew the answer. How could he consider any other option? 

And he was reminded of the band he had taken to carrying around in his pocket since retrieving it from his father’s study the morning after he passed. The silver band with an intricate pattern and red jewels was one he had remembered Ser Jason wearing but hadn’t know his father had given it to him. But Damian had admired it then and he would feel even stronger about it should it rest on Jon’s finger.

So, he pushed to his feet and made his way over to where Jon stood waiting for Titus to chase after the stick he had just thrown. And when Jon turned to look at Damian as he approached, the smile Jon gave him further solidified Damian’s resolve. And he didn’t hesitate once he reached the other man, taking his face between his hands and pressing their mouths together. 

It wasn’t their first kiss, it wasn’t even close to being their first at this point, but it was their first that had such a big meaning behind it. At least to Damian. And he tried to convey that meaning to Jon through the kiss, through the press of his body against Jon’s.

“What was that for?” Jon’s voice came out breathy, quiet as he gasped for air when they had separated by mere inches.

“Marry me,” Damian responded. It wasn’t romantic and it wasn’t memorable, but it was honest. “Do not leave me ever. Stay with me in Gotham and help me look after my kingdom. Make it our kingdom.”

Jon’s face went from dazed to shocked as Damian spoke and the words sunk in. “But…” Damian allowed him to work through whatever it was he was thinking, waiting. “What of the law?”

“Before Father passed, he had it abolished. He asked the Council, based on what happened with him, Mother, and Ser Jason, to abolish it and allow all rulers to marry the person they see fit and not someone who would just be an heir producer.” Jon’s eyes went wide, and Damian tried not to laugh at the fact that he could basically see the thoughts running through his mind. “He did it for me, for us. Before he died, he told me to find this,” he said, pulling back to grab the ring out of his pocket. He held it up in his palm and looked from it to Jon. “He told me to find this and to give it to you. To have what he was not able to. To marry someone he loved.”

He watched Jon’s blue eyes look down at the ring, a look of familiarity passing over his features, before he looked back to Damian. “This was Ser Todd’s?” Damian nodded. “You trust me with this?”

“I trust you with my entire world,” Damian admitted. “Will you trust me with yours?”

“I already do,” Jon laughed and quickly pressed his mouth back to Damian’s in a quick, but heated kiss. “My best friend, my partner, my King, my…husband,” he whispered against Damian’s mouth and the younger was certain his heart was moments away from beating out of his chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“How could I say anything but?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay final chapter of the past. Next chapter will be in the current timeline. I have barely started it, but I'm hoping it comes much easier than this one did. 
> 
> A warning: I hate this chapter. Not all of it, but as a whole it's absolutely my least favorite. It feels forced and I hate when that happens, but it was needed for continuity. Also, big time jump at the last scene of the chapter. I did not mark how much time, but I am pretty descriptive with it so you can figure it's a decent amount.
> 
> Only partially edited because I just need to post it and be done with it at this point. Be kind.

Standing before the doors that would lead him and Jon to the room where he could hear his family members talking as they waited for dinner to be served, Damian glanced at the man at his side. The man he was about to announce as one he intended to marry. All of them probably knew it was coming, but he still found himself a bit nervous. Would his grandfather approve? Would his aunt give him that smile of understanding and acceptance? He knew his father would have approved, he had been the one who had told him to do it without delay, but what of the others?

“We can wait,” Jon offered, his smile not faltering in the least. “It can remain between the two of us for the time being. Until you feel more settled, maybe?”

Damian shook his head and looked back to the door. “No. We are to be married and I refuse to hide away that fact like I am ashamed to love you.” He felt Jon’s hand squeeze his, and the feeling of the cool metal of the ring on his finger grounded him. To the point where he pushed forward and allowed the doors to swing open so they could enter the dining hall.

“Grandson,” his grandfather greeted from where he stood with Selina at his side, Ser Roy standing with him. Damian knew they were probably discussing something related the knights, as Damian had asked the former king to be the one to oversee them since he was still adjusting.

“Grandfather, Selina,” Damian replied before looking to Ser Roy. “Ser Roy, will you be joining us tonight?” The Knight looked surprised at the question and Damian wondered why silently since the man had joined them plenty of times when his father had been king.

“I…” The man looked over to his grandfather before he looked back to Damian. “I would like that, Your Majesty,” he said, giving a bow. There was a smile on his face that spoke more than the words he said and Damian gave him a nod before he glanced around for his aunt. 

When he didn’t see her anywhere, he looked back to his grandfather. “Where is Aunt Cass? I have something I wish to tell you all.” As if she had heard him asking for her, his aunt came gliding into the room with her friend Stephanie right behind her. The two women were smiling, laughing at something one of them had said, as they made their way over.

“Nephew! Prince Jon,” his aunt greeted them before turning to greet her father, step-mother, and Ser Roy. Damian watched Stephanie give him a bow before she relayed a greeting of her own.

“Please,” Damian waved a hand at Stephanie’s bow. “Do not feel you need to do that. You are family just as much as the others at this point.” The blonde looked surprised but gave a nod of understanding. “Now that we have all gathered, I would like to tell you all some good news.” Glancing over at Jon’s who gave his hand another squeeze, Damian smiled. “I have asked Prince Jon to marry me and he has agreed.” He turned to look back at his family in various states of shock.

He was not surprised that Selina was the first to offer her congratulations. He accepted the warm hug and thanked her when she spoke a soft congratulations into his ear. His aunt and Stephanie followed closely, giving him and Jon each a hug before switching and hugging the other. When Ser Roy also stepped forward to hug him, Damian was a little caught off guard.

“Jason would be so proud of you,” the knight murmured into his ear before releasing Damian and shaking Jon’s hand. “Congratulations to you both. Richard said he hoped this would be the end result of your friendship back when you were just boys. He spent weeks talking about how to ask the Council to lift the marriage law so it might happen.”

Damian blinked at the man for a moment before looking over to find Jon grinning at the knight. Damian had told Jon what his father had said on his deathbed, how he had wanted Damian to ask him sooner rather than later, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the man approved. But perhaps the fact that he had approved long before Jon himself had figured out how he felt was the difference.

“Grandson,” his grandfather’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his green eyes away from his intended to the man who stood just a few inches taller than him. The man placed both of his hands-on Damian’s shoulders and looked him right in the eye. “It is no secret that I am a traditionalist. But with everything that has happened due to that fact, I am quite pleased to hear this news.” The man looked over to Jon and sent him a rare smile. “Your father has been a dear friend of mine for many years and the opportunity to join our families is a welcome one.”

And just like that, the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach vanished. He had been so concerned about the older man’s approval and now that he had it, relief was all he felt. His father had given his approval and Ser Jason had made it clear he supported Damian in everything he did so he didn’t wonder how the Slayer would have reacted. But his grandfather? The former king who was known for being rigid in his beliefs and strict with his rules? He couldn’t have guessed it would be so easy to have the approval.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Jon said formally, giving a small bow. His grandfather huffed out a laugh before pulling both of them in for a brief hug. 

“You are to be family, please call me Bruce,” the man offered, and Damian smiled as Jon’s face brightened at the offer. It was not an honor many were afforded, and the other prince was well aware of that fact. “I do believe we should make a toast. Alfred, the best wine in the cellar please?” The personal manservant gave a nod and hurried off in the direction of where they kept the wine. “We shall have to have the ceremony as soon as possible. I will send word to King Kon and Timothy immediately. We shall plan a wedding to rival all weddings.” He released the two men before turning to speak with Selina about what they would need to get things planned.

“All those nerves for no reason at all, hmm my love?” Damian looked over at Jon and gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging. “The fates would not have been so cruel to you. They have been heavy handed as it is. You have earned some happiness. I just hope that is me.”

“Always, Beloved.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adjusting the sleeve of his shirt, Damian made his way down the hallway toward his study with the intent of going over some of the most recent requests from the citizens. He had held the Petitioning the day before and the requests he hadn’t been certain about had been recorded and the Council had come to decisions later that day. He had just wanted to comb through them one last time before he sent the messengers.

“Nephew,” his uncle’s voice caught his attention, stopping him before he entered the study. Turning to look at the man who was coming up behind him, Damian waited. The man had arrived the day before with the King of Metropolis and the Jon’s father for the wedding festivities, but Damian had yet had a moment to really speak with the older man. “I wondered if we might take a walk to the crypt together?”

That was not something he had expected the man to say, but it didn’t fill him with the dread he thought it would. He had gone to see the statue of both of his fathers multiple times since their deaths and though it still caused his heart to ache, he found the peace in the crypt welcoming. He had yet to go there with anyone else though. Jon had told him that those moments were private in his country, so he didn’t feel right even when Damian made it clear he would be fine with it.

“I would like that, yes,” he agreed with a nod. He knew he would have time later to look over the orders. The urgent ones had been handled already anyway. Continuing on the path toward the exit of the castle, Damian kept in step with his uncle. He remained silent, nodding at staff members as they saw them and allowing his uncle to greet a few of them by name as they made their way out. “Have you been back since your arrival yesterday?” The final statue had not been finished before his uncle had left after the Feast, so he was curious if he had gotten the opportunity to see the finished design.

“I have not, but Father mentioned how well it turned out in their likeness.” Damian simply nodded in agreement. It was an almost perfect replica of his memory of the two men. And since it was in the royal crypt, there did not need to be a lie in who they were to each other. “How have you been adjusting, Damian? There has been much change in such a short amount of time. I was almost surprised to receive the letter about the wedding.”

Looking at his uncle, Damian stopped walking and tilted his head slightly in consideration. “Surprised? But you knew how I felt about Jon. You encouraged it,” he reminded the man, who laughed and shook his head. That only served to confuse Damian more. “I am missing something, aren’t I?”

“Damian, my nephew, you are a great many things but spontaneous is rarely one of them.” Frowning, Damian considered that. “I am not meaning for you to take offense to it. I am simply saying that rarely do you just do something because you _want_ to do it. There is usually much calculation in your actions. Your mother’s influence, I believe.”

And yes, he supposed that made sense. His father loved to just jump right into the thick of things and his mother wanted to know all the variables. He had always felt he fell somewhere in the middle, but perhaps he was closer to his mother. But on this particular decision, he knew exactly why he had acted much like his father would have.

“Father told me, the night he died, to ask Jon to marry me as soon as I could.”

His uncle looked unsurprised. And Damian didn’t feel like it required more of an explanation than that. So he turned and continued making his way to the crypt with his uncle beside him. “And the ring? I suppose Richard told you where he had kept it and what it meant.”

Damian nodded and gestured for the older man to enter the crypt before him. “It is an honor to see that ring on Jon’s finger knowing it once rested on Ser Jason’s,” he admitted, not looking at his uncle when the man stopped and glanced his way. Instead, he turned his eyes onto the statue they had come to see. 

The sculptor had turned a crude drawing of Damian’s into a masterpiece. With his father standing, head bowed, crown on head. The lines of his robes looked as though they would flutter in the wind, they were so delicately done. And the soft smile on his face, eyes closed, was just as he would always remember it. And the figure of Ser Jason with his armour on, head tilted as if whispering in his lover’s ear, spoke of strength and love at the same time. The stone cut of the Slayer’s hair was just a wind tousled as it always was when he was on the fields training the soldiers.

“It is perfect,” his uncle whispered. Swallowing against his now tight throat, Damian nodded. They looked so alive and filled with so much love for each other, Damian could almost pretend they were real. “Father said it was your design?”

“I drew them just how I remembered them. The sculptor is the true artist here.” Reaching out a hand, Damian touched his father’s hand that hung at his side. He had taken to touching both of their hands before he sent his prayers off. “They could not be together in life. But their love can forever be remembered by those of us who remain and those who we leave behind.” Shifting to touch Ser Jason’s hand, Damian bowed his head and said his silent prayers of peace for both their souls. Even though he knew there was no peace to be had thanks to his mother.

He felt his uncle come up beside him as he recited the silent prayer but made no move to acknowledge him. “Though you might not believe it, Nephew, there is very little of your mother in you,” the man said as Damian lifted his head and looked up at the two men captured in stone. “I know there is a war inside of you. I know you struggle with the possibility that your mother influenced you more than your father was willing to admit, but you should know this,” the man paused, and Damian looked over at him, “when faced with a decision you have yet to choose a path that she would have wanted you to.”

Dropping his uncle’s gaze, Damian looked back to the statue and considered the older man’s words. He thought over every decision he had made since his mother had been put to death. From when he was so scared the people of the kingdom thought he was just like her to when they accepted him as their king. He thought about the decision to tell Jon he loved him, the decision to ask him to marry him. His mother would have never approved of any of those choices. Especially Jon. She had fought so hard to separate the two of them.

Yet he was set to marry the man in a few days’ time, and he had no regrets.

“She will always be a shadow on my mind though,” Damian admitted, looking back to his uncle. “It is a constant struggle to consciously not follow the path she spent thirteen years pushing me down.”

“Perhaps,” his uncle shrugged. “But perhaps you’ll find one day she is no longer a whisper in the back of your mind. Perhaps one day you’ll only hear your own voice.” He considered the thought before sighing and glancing back toward the exit of the crypt. “I know you have duties to attend to, Nephew. I would like some time alone with my brother, so do not feel you need to remain on my account.”

Thinking of the papers waiting for him on his desk, he smiled at his uncle. “Thank you for the discussion, Uncle. I will see you at dinner.” The man gave a nod before turning back to the statue and Damian turned to leave. When he glanced back just before he exited the crypt, he saw the man with his head bowed, pressed to the stone hand of the former king, shoulders shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Growing up, he remembered hearing so many say that they were nervous at their handfasting. So many people told him stories of how they had barely known the one they were to marry and that the ceremony was so permanent that it caused nerves to strike.

Damian found himself waiting at the start of the walkway that would lead him and Jon through the woods to a small glade where their closest friends and family were waiting to bear witness to their pledge to one another. But he as he stood there, he noticed the nerves everyone had spoken of were absent. All he felt was impatient. 

Perhaps it was the years of knowing Jon. Perhaps it was knowing he was absolutely the man he wanted to spend his life with. 

More than that, he just felt at peace. Like the one thing his father had wanted of him, he was fulfilling. 

“Dami.” He turned at the sound of his name, smiling at the sight of Jon walking toward him in the familiar colors of red and blue from his homeland. And though they were not a combination that Damian himself would have picked, he enjoyed the way Jon’s pale skin almost glowed in contrast as the moonlight shone down on them. His eyes fell on the jewel holding his cloaks together, where there should have been gold and black he found red and black. And a glimmer of blue.

The same colors Damian had chosen to wear in honor of both of his fathers.

Reaching out to touch the jewel when Jon was within his reach, Damian looked up at the sparkling blue eyes of his soon to be husband. The man simply smile the all too familiar, mischievous smile Damian knew all too well and offered no explanation.

“Everyone is waiting for us in the glade.” Jon gave him a nod and took the offered hand from Damian, so they could walk to the ceremony together. Neither man spoke, as was Gotham tradition for this type of ceremony, as they made the trek further into the woods. And even though he could see the glade up ahead, he noticed that the forest remained quiet. Almost as if it were watching with bated breath.

He could relate.

As they stepped into the glade with Jon at his side, Damian felt his spine straighten a bit more in response to being around the others. And though he knew he didn’t need to impress these witnesses, he still felt he had to maintain his image. So he remained focused on the Archbishop at the end of the walk, waiting for them. 

He gave a small nod to his uncle, who he had chosen to stand witness for him, which the man returned it with a bright smile. A glance over at King Kon revealed him doing the same for his brother and Damian felt the expectations melt away as they came to a stop just past the two men, in front of the Archbishop who held his Law of Old. Damian immediately noticed the chord he and Jon had braided together the night before in front of the fireplace in Damian’s room draped over the open book. 

There had been laughter and tears, hushed words of missing those who could not be there to witness this moment, as they weaved the pieces together. It had been private and special, something he would never forget.

As the Archbishop began the traditional greeting, Damian glanced over at Jon and found the man smiling as he watched the man before them read his script. And once again he found himself floored and so thankful that this was his future. That though his mother had stolen so much from him, she could not manage to steal this.

“King Damian of Gotham and Prince Jonathan of Metropolis, please face one another and take the other’s right hand,” the Archbishop’s words pulled Damian away from his thoughts and he turned to follow the command. Smiling at Jon, he held his right hand out with the palm facing up. Without hesitation, Jon placed his own right hand into Damian’s, and they allowed their fingers to curl around the other’s wrist. “Your Majesty, please say the oath.”

Taking a deep breath, Damian looked into Jon’s eyes and tightened his grip. “Jonathan of House Kent, I take you as you are, loving who you are now and who you are yet to become. I promise from this day forward to be grateful for our love and our life. To be generous with my time, my energy, and my affection. To be patient with you and myself. To fill our life with adventure and our home with laughter. To encourage you to grow as an individual, and inspire you to do so. To love you completely,” he spoke confidently, taking in the smile growing wider on Jon’s lips as he recited the vow. “These things I pledge before you. And before our loved ones and those who no longer bless this land with their presence.”

Swallowing hard against the tears building in his eyes as he watched a tear slip from Jon’s, Damian returned Jon’s smile as the other man recited the same script. He tried to ignore the swelling of his heart, the promise of their future in the words, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus otherwise.

“King Damian, do you take Prince Jonathan to be your husband?”

“I do,” he confirmed without looking away from Jon.

“And Prince Jonathan, do you take King Damian to be your husband?”

“I do,” the man whispered, causing Damian’s smile to grow even more than it already had. Despite the ceremony not being finished, he felt as though he couldn’t be more content. Could he die from happiness? It almost felt as though he might.

“The honored have requested to have their witnesses to bind their hands while the blessing is said,” the Archbishop said, gesturing for his uncle and Jon’s brother to move to stand in front of them with the chord in hand. Glancing over at them, Damian watched the men take one end each and move forward to wrap the chord around his and Jon’s joined hands. “This is the hand of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that is holding yours on your handfasting day. As you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever. These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together you build your future. These hands will passionately love you and cherish you through the years and with the slightest touch, comfort you like no other,” the man spoke, but Damian turned his attention back to his almost husband.

“These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind. These are the hands that will, countless times, wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow and tears of joy. These are the hands that will help you hold your family as one. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it.” He looked down as he felt the tightening of the knot, noticing the two men had joined the chord and were stepping back. He looked from the knot to his uncle and noticed the man’s blue eyes were glimmering with unshed tears as he watched them. “And lastly, these are the hands that, even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken tenderness with just a touch.”

The blessing was finished and quiet filled the glade as Damian looked away from his uncle, back to Jon. And he wasn’t surprised to find Jon watching him. They both knew what was coming. And though they had kissed plenty of times in the recent weeks, there was something delicate and precious about this moment.

“Your Majesties, under the gaze of the Powers That Be and the witnesses you have called here tonight, I pronounce you bound by love. May you share your first of many kisses in this moment,” the older man said, encouraging the two men to seal the moment. 

And though Damian wanted to desperately kiss Jon, he called upon all his self-control to slowly lean in and press his mouth to Jon’s. And though his husband’s lips were entirely too distracting, he could still hear the responding cheers and clapping from those watching the moment unfold. He could also feel Jon’s laughter against his mouth. Pulling away from Jon, Damian smiled at the man before looking out toward their family and closes friends.

And though he knew two especially important faces were missing, he could almost feel their presence there with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The various conversations of the people gathered in the Great Hall washed over him as he made his way through the room, not really pausing much outside of returning a greeting or two. He knew there would be plenty of time to converse with the guests over the course of the evening, so he stayed true to the path that would take him to his husband’s side.

“Your Majesty,” King Kon greeted with a smirk and a nod of his head. To which Damian rolled his eyes as he stopped to stand beside his husband, immediately allowing his hand to find Jon’s.

“We are family now, are we not? No sense in such formalities in a setting like this.”

He watched the other man consider him closely before nodding, looking almost pleased with the response. “The sentiment is returned then, Damian.” And Damian simply raised his glass of wine to toast the older man before taking a sip and glancing at his husband.

“Have you eaten yet? I thought I might go see what the staff prepared under the scrutiny of Grandfather.” Jon shook his head with a laugh and Damian smiled, ignoring the chuckle that came from Kon at the former king’s expense. “Join me?”

“Yes, I am famished but everyone has been so distracting,” Jon admitted, walking beside Damian as they made their way around the various groups of people. “Every time I went to grab a bite, someone else stepped into my path.”

“And you wouldn’t want to be rude by telling them that you would speak with them later.”

Jon looked at him with a bit of a gleam in his eye that Damian wasn’t sure how to describe. “I would never,” the man teased. “But no, I could not in this instance. If I am to live among these faces for the remainder of our days, I should not want to offend them so early in the marriage.” Damian hummed and nodded to the head chef who stood near the table, taking stock of all the items laid out on the table.

“Your Majesties,” the chef greeted with a wide smile and a bow. “I have prepared a few of the items you requested, My King. I am not certain of how close to Metropolis quality they are, but I did have his former Majesty there to taste a few of the items. He gave his approval.”

Damian nodded and gave her a warm thank you before turning to speak to Jon. He found the man already looking at him, a bit of a surprised look on his face. “Beloved?”

“You requested some food from home?”

“Well,” he shrugged, feeling a little awkward, “I wanted to be sure this was about you just as much as it was about me. The party itself is for the citizens who wish to celebrate with their ruler, but why should it just be our cuisine they experience? You are just as much their ruler now, even if we have yet to officially crown you.”

He shifted a bit when Jon continued to stare at him as he spoke. He didn’t think what he had done was that big of a deal, but the way Jon was looking at him made it seem like it must be. A good one, he hoped. 

“Some more wine, Your Majesties?” A server asked, unaware of the moment between the two men. He held a plate with a jug to refill glasses and Damian broke Jon’s gaze to glance down at his mostly empty glass. 

“Please,” he responded, holding his glass out for the server to fill. “You do not have a glass, Beloved?” He questioned, noticing Jon’s empty hands.

“I shall return immediately!” The server hurried off before either could say anything, but Jon seemed to have barely noticed.

Placing his free hand on Jon’s cheek, Damian searched his eyes. He wasn’t certain what it was he was looking for, but something. Perhaps a hint at to what was going on in the other man’s mind at the moment. The slightly stunned look still covered his features, but there was something else. Something _more_. And though it looked familiar, he couldn’t quite place the emotion.

But the need to dissect it was eliminated when Jon pushed forward and pressed their mouths together, much to the delight of the people standing near them. Damian could hear the cheering and laughing from the people surrounding them, but he ignored it in favor of enjoying his husband for a moment. He knew this was a change for the kingdom. His mother and father had not been in love or even liked one another. So seeing their King being affectionate was probably a bit of a surprise. But a good one, from the sounds of it.

“Beloved?” Damian questioned when Jon pulled back enough to allow them to breathe. He blinked his eyes open and found Jon looking at him with that look. The one that made his heart quicken and his stomach swoop.

“Thank you for being you,” Jon said quietly, as though he wanted that to remain between them. It wouldn’t since there were far too many people within hearing distance, but Damian chose to ignore that. “You never fail to surprise me with your thoughtfulness.” And Damian’s confusion must have shown on his face because Jon was laughing and pulling further away, gesturing at the table of food. And Damian understood. 

He hadn’t thought much of it when he made the suggestion to the chef, but he was glad that it worked in his favor. And he didn’t really think it was a very big gesture worthy of this kind of reaction, but he wasn’t going to fight Jon on it. Especially when the man kissed him like that without giving the people around them a second thought.

“Here you are, Your Majesty,” the server came rushing over with a wine glass for Jon, giving a bow as Jon took the glass from the tray with a thank you. “Can I do anything else for either of you?”

Damian chuckled at the man and shook his head. “No, I do believe we are just fine. Thank you.” The server bowed again and moved away, and Damian just smiled. “Shall we eat? There is something I wish to show you once we have made a few rounds in the room.” Jon looked at him curiously, but nodded and turned toward the tables of food to direct a staff member which items he wanted on his plate. Damian followed suite and led his husband over to their designated table where his grandfather and wife were currently sitting at one end and his Aunt Cass at the other.

They spent the following hours talking with the citizens who paused to pass along their congratulations, Damian making sure to make personal addresses to the ones he remembered from either private audiences or from previous gatherings. He watched Jon question each person as if he would sear them all into his memory, wanting to know each and every person who lived within their borders. 

It warmed Damian more than he wanted to admit. And selfishly, he was thankful that Jon was to be a ruler in Gotham instead of Metropolis. They were two very different people, but Jon brought something to the kingdom that Damian had never been able to quite get the hang of. He was humble. And while Damian knew he was not prideful in the way his mother had been, he did still struggle with the idea that he was still better than certain others. He would probably always struggle with that. 

But Jon balanced that out with his humility and Damian was thankful.

Pushing to his feet once there was a break in the never-ending line of well-wishers, Damian held his hand out to Jon. “Come with me, I have something I wish to do,” he told his husband with a small smile. He watched Jon take his hand and stand before glancing over at his grandfather and giving him a nod. “We’ll go through the gardens,” he said as he guided them out of the Great Hall and into the cooling air of the summer night. 

Gotham summers were hot, but thankfully their evenings cooled into something much more tolerable. Especially when he and Jon were required to be in their ceremonial robes for a celebration such as this. 

Silently, he led his husband through the gardens, weaving through the maze with practiced ease. He was reminded of playing games with his father and Ser Jason when he was little, listening to his tutor as they walked the gardens between lessons, and spring days following Titus as he chased after birds and various flying bugs.

“Your Majesties,” a man with golden hair greeted with a bow as they reached one of the buildings near the stables. Damian gave him a smiled as Jon said his hello. “I have what you asked for in the back, if you’ll follow me.”

“Yes, thank you,” Damian said, moving to follow the man but pausing when Jon tugged on his hand. Looking over at his husband, Damian raised a brow. “Beloved?”

“What is going on here, Dami?”

Damian smiled and shrugged. “You shall have to follow and find out.” Taking a few steps forward, Damian allowed their arms to stretch their limit with their hands still clasped. “It is a surprise and one I think you shall like very much. So just come.”

Jon frowned before Damian saw him sigh and nod, walking forward and allowing Damian to lead them into the building. The inside wasn’t anything impressive and certainly didn’t give anything away, to which Damian was thankful. 

“Ah, there you are,” the man commented as Damian reached the only room that was lit by firelight. Peeking his head into the room, he noticed the present innocently laying on the floor and Damian smiled. 

“I had your father pick it out, but it was my idea for him to bring him from Metropolis,” Damian explained as he stepped into the room and Jon followed. It took a few seconds before Jon noticed what it was Damian was talking about.

With a surprised gasp, Jon released Damian’s hand and rushed forward to look down at the small white dog that had yet to notice their presence. But as soon as Jon knelt down next to it, the dog’s head lifted and his tiny tail began to wag.

“I thought Titus could use a playmate since my attention is now to be much more split than before,” Damian explained when Jon looked back to him as the dog jumped up and into his arms. When Jon’s laughter sounded as the dog began licking his face, Damian felt his heart squeeze. 

“Does it have a name?”

“No he does not.”

Jon looked down at the dog who was panting happily as Jon pet his head and seemed to examine the dog closely. “Krypto,” he said, pulling a questioning sound out of Damian’s throat. “A protective deity from back home. He may not grow to the size of Titus, but I can tell he is going to be fierce.”

“I like that,” Damian nodded. Pushing to his feet, Jon picked up the dog and walked over to where Damian still stood by the doorway. “So you like him then?”

“I love him,” Jon confirmed. Damian wasn’t surprised when his husband leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips to show that very appreciation. “I love you. Thank you for giving me so much from back home.”

“You are leaving much behind. I am glad I can bring at least a bit of it to you in order to make the transition easier.” Jon’s smile softened at that and Damian looked away at the gentleness of it. “I had the staff bring everything he would need to our rooms during the celebration. Shall we introduce him to his big brother?” 

Jon laughed and nodded, this time leading Damian out of the room and back out into the night air. Watching his husband dote on the small dog seemed to be a glimpse into their future as fathers and while he knew neither of them were quite ready for that, it did a lot to quell any nerves he might have had at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But we need to think about this logically,” one of the Council members said as another tried to explain why sending more grain to the outer limits was a good idea for the winter. Damian had been sitting at the head of the table, Jon sitting in the spot just to his left where Damian had always sat when his father was king, listening to them talk in circles for far too long and it was starting to grate on him. The first three weeks of their marriage, Damian had appreciated Jon’s ability to keep Damian relaxed and calm when the meetings started getting out of order. But today, not even his husband’s unending calm could stop his annoyance from rising

“We have the reserves, do we not?” Damian finally spoke up, rubbing at his temple. He stood and waved a hand for one of them to pass the parchments to him. “Thank you,” he said to the servant who handed them over. Looking down at the numbers, he did the quick math in his head and tried to see what the problem was. “According to this we have more than enough. What is the issue with sending more than the usual amount to those who need it?”

“They have not increased their contributions to the stockpile, Your Majesty. It is not about us not needing it, it is about others getting the idea that they can get more without giving more.” It was a fair point and Damian knew that. His logical side knew what the man was getting at.

He knew that people could take advantage of their kindness. But he also knew that his job was to care for those who were under his rule. He could not do that if they starved through the winter.

“If I may?” Jon’s voice sounded, pulling the attention of everyone else at the table. The question was sent to Damian, but the others all nodded, and Damian slipped over the papers as he took a seat. Jon took them and glanced over the numbers before putting them down. “I do not believe thinking the absolute worst is helpful in this situation. Other villages are not going to see a way to get more for less. They are going to see a kingdom who cares for them when they need it most. Our people are _kind_. And they are _generous_. And that is because their rulers are kind and generous. Not frugal.”

Damian looked over to the other members of the Council and waited to see what they would say or do. He could see a few of them looking pleased, but the man who had been against sending the extra was not.

“And if winter hits us here in Bristol harder than anticipated? What are we to do then?” The man asked, looking back to Damian. But instead of answering, Damian looked over to Jon to see if he had a response. His husband looked unsure, but with a nod from Damian he seemed to gather his courage.

“Then we call upon our allies for aide. Or we reach out to villages to see if there is excess they do not expect to use.” 

“Gotham does not call upon allies for resources at a whim, Your Majesty,” the man said, his voice souring with the condescending tone. Damian felt his eyes narrow as he took in the man addressing his husband. “Perhaps that was common in Metropolis, but that is not the Gotham way.”

And while Damian knew Jon could easily defend himself in the moment, he still slowly stood to his feet to look at the Council member. It was a move that was all due to his mother, an action she had taught him to perfect in order to command the attention in the room. And he inwardly cringed at how well it worked and how easy it was for him to remember.

Leaning forward, he pressed his hands flat on the long table. “Gotham also does not speak to their King in such a manner,” he spoke steadily, staring the man down. He hated seeing the man cower back slightly, glancing around at the other members of the Council. He made no move to acknowledge Jon’s hand when it came to rest on his forearm, though he knew his husband was trying to tell him that it was fine. That he was fine. “You would do well to remember that after my seat, my husband’s is the second most powerful in this room. And perhaps my grandfather would not have called upon allies in such a situation, but my father certainly would have. As will I.”

He saw various nods of agreement, some scribbling on parchment, out of the corners of his eyes but he kept his focus on the man. “You are King, but you are not the sole decision maker in these situations, Your Majesty.”

“Is that what you really think, Councilmember?”

“Damian,” Jon whispered fiercely, squeezing his arm tightly. But Damian continued to ignore him.

“You cannot abolish the Law of Old,” the man pointed out, but Damian took slight glee in the quiver in his voice. “You wouldn’t dishonor your father in such a manner.”

Despite the smirk on Damian’s face, inwardly he knew the man was right. Damian would never break the Law of Old just to spite the man for being disrespectful to his husband. Finally turning to look at Jon, he was not surprised to see the wide-eyed look on his face. Sighing, Damian sat back in his seat and noticed the Councilmember visibly sight.

“I do not need to abolish the law to put this into action,” Damian said, gesturing for Jon to sit back down. “We will send the extra requested of the village and should we find ourselves suffering due to our kindness, then we shall call for aide from one of our many allies.” He looked to the scribe of the Council and she gave him a firm nod, writing everything down as quickly as she could. “I believe we have accomplished all that we can for the day. We shall touch on the rest tomorrow.”

He watched as the members stood and gathered their things, leaving Jon and Damian still seated at the table as they made their way out of the room, discussing things amongst themselves. It wasn’t until the door shut behind the very last member that Damian looked over at Jon, finding him frowning at him in return.

“Beloved?”

“That was not like you,” Jon said quietly, leaning back into his chair. Damian made a questioning noise but said nothing. “You might as well have pulled a sword on the man.”

“Absurd,” Damian rolled his eyes, waving a hand at Jon. “I will not tolerate someone talking down to you in such a way. He needed to understand his place in this situation. And it is not one that puts him above you.”

He watched Jon observe him for a moment, not saying anything more. “I am serious, My Love. I have never seen you speak to someone in that manner before.” And it brought to mind just how much the action was like his mother. How even the movements he made were something she would have approved of. Sure, she would have told him to take the Council’s power all together, but she would have been pleased with him putting the man in his place. It made his stomach drop. 

It made him feel rotten in his core.

And though he knew it was not Jon’s intention to compare him to his mother, that was how it felt in the moment. “I did that for you,” he stated, his voice rising ever so slightly as he straightened in his chair. “I stood up for you. That was not about me or how I felt. It was not about power or control. You are my husband, and I will not just sit back and allow someone to treat you as though you have no right to be here.”

“I know that, Dami. That’s not what this is about. I just want to understand what happened.”

“What happened is that I stood up for my husband. And if that is an issue, then perhaps you should just not come to Council meetings anymore.” He watched Jon’s jaw drop and immediately regretted saying that. 

“That makes you no better than him.” And logically, Damian knew Jon had a point. But his brain was shifting into irrational and that felt like an attack. “I can see you getting angry, My Love, please. I am not wanting to fight.”

“Then you should have not compared me to him!” Damian shouted as he stood to his feet. “I am trying my best. I am doing what I think is best! This was not how my rule was supposed to start, but I can only do what I am able. And if the way I do that if not to your liking then I do not know what to tell you.”

He didn’t bother turning to respond when he heard Jon call his name as he stormed out of the hall. All he knew was that he needed to get out of that room before he said anything more. Because he could hear his mother’s voice in his mind, and he didn’t like any of the things she was telling him to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun had already started setting when Jon finally found him in his father’s old study. Damian knew he had missed dinner and that the others were probably concerned, but he had crawled too far into his head to really care. And he knew that if they had really wanted to find him, they would. But Jon would know well enough that he just needed some time and space to clear out the muck from inside his head. 

His mother may have been executed over seven years ago, but Damian still found himself struggling with her influence. She had molded him for thirteen years and he didn’t know how to brush that aside. Especially without his father around to balance it out.

“My Love?” Jon’s voice called out from the doorway. Damian didn’t bother getting out of the chair he was slumped in, but he did look over at his husband for a moment before returning his gaze to the large window he sat in front of. This had been one of his favorite spots growing up. He had spent hours sitting there, listening to his father work while he watched the soldiers being trained by Ser Jason in the fields below.

His father had admitted that the window position was the exact reason he had picked this study. The memory just made his heart ache more now that he was without both of them.

A tray was set down on the table sitting between the two plush chairs and Damian could smell that it was probably whatever the chef had prepared for dinner. But the thought of food really just made his stomach churn at the moment, so he ignored it and looked to his husband instead. He watched him round the other chair and sit down on it.

“I am sorry for shouting,” Damian said, sending an apologetic look to the other man. He wasn’t surprised when Jon waved the apology off and Damian sighed. Some of the weight of the day slipped off his shoulders at the gesture and he sent a thankful look instead.

They sat there in silence for a few moments before Jon shifted and Damian knew he was about to speak. “What happened today, Damian? I do not understand what it is I said that upset you to that point. I want to be sure I do not make the same mistake again.”

“It was not something you said,” Damian told him, sitting up straighter to look at the other man more directly. “And I should not have taken that out on you. I knew, even then, that you were only trying to help. I know that, Jon. I just…” He trailed off, unsure of how to admit what the real issue was. Leaning back in his chair, he looked back out the window. “Father taught me so much, he made sure I was ready to take his place, but he could not erase my mother from my mind completely. And sometimes when I am faced with a difficult situation, I can still hear her in the back of my mind.”

He heard Jon moving but he didn’t pull his eyes away from the window as he spoke. He didn’t dare look at his husband because he would not be able to stand seeing pity in his blue eyes. He could not bear that. But against his best wishes, Jon came into view when he knelt in front of Damian and the younger couldn’t help but and look at the other man. 

He let Jon take his hands into his own and just watched him, waiting to see what he was going to say or do. “You are _not_ your mother,” Jon told him, and Damian did his best not to cringe at the words he had heard his father say to him so many times when he had been alive still. “You are far better than she was, and I _know_ you know that.”

He did know that, but he still doubted himself. He still wondered if maybe his mother’s influence would prove to be stronger than his father’s one day.

“I am so afraid she will win.”

“She won’t,” Jon said with no hesitation. And Damian knew the other man believed in him absolutely, but it was still a doubt that lingered. Even when he himself didn’t actually believe it. “You would never let her. If she was going to, we would not be here. I would not be here. Her whispers of hate will not overcome your father’s love.”

Clenching his jaw, Damian swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “It has been seven years and still…”

“And yet here you are. If she really held any power over you still, do you honestly think you would have apologized to me?” Shaking his head, Damian knew he wouldn’t have. His mother would balk at any show of weakness. “And do you think you would have ended the meeting the way you had?” No, he would have stripped the man of his position. “Do not doubt yourself, My Love. In here,” Jon tapped his chest over his heart, “you are a good man. You are kind, generous, and exactly what Gotham needs.”

There was no lie in his words. Damian could sense nothing but complete and utter devotion, not that he had been expecting anything less from Jon. No, he never doubted anything when it came to Jon. 

“Thank you, Beloved. Thank you for reminding me of the truth when I cannot see it clearly.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, My Love. Nor will I ever be anywhere else so long as this earth shall have me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Father? What are we doing in the glade? Certainly, a walk this long was not good for you,” Damian heard his daughter call to him as he walked to the place where he had stood and married Jon so many years before. He knew, after laying his husband to rest a few days ago, that his time was limited and would follow soon. He didn’t even need Madame Xanadu to tell him that much.

But he had one last task to accomplish before he spent his finals days with their children. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring that had rested on his husband’s finger for so many years. The same ring that had encircled the finger of a man who was his father in all but blood until he had been lost. 

“Rachel, please give me the box I asked you to hold,” he glanced back at his daughter. He smiled as she moved to stand beside him and gave him the hand-carved wooden box that he had asked Madame Xanadu to bless and protect. “Will you dig the hole I mentioned here?” He pointed to the spot between where he and Jon had stood for their handfasting.

His daughter sent him a strange look, but pulled the small hand shovel out that he had asked her to bring and dropped to the ground. Slowly, Damian followed her actions and landed on his knees in the cool moss covered ground. As Rachel dug the hole, Damian opened the box and carefully placed the ring inside on the red velvet. He knew the box would survive until it was needed again, he only worried it would be found before it was meant to be.

“Is this deep enough?” He looked down at the hole his daughter had managed and nodded. Leaning forward, he placed the box inside of the hole that was as deep as the length of his arm up to his elbow. Once he had removed his hand, Rachel began dropping the displaced dirt back into it to cover the box from anyone who might pass this way. “Father? Why are we doing this? Do you not want to keep Father’s ring?” 

Looking at his daughter, with her caramel skin and tight black curls, Damian shook his head. “No, this is what I need to do. It is of great importance. Someday, the right person will come and find this ring and it will go back to the person who should have worn it far longer than he was allowed to.” And because he had never told the story of what his mother had done to his father and the man he loved, his daughter just looked at him confused. “Come, help an old man to his feet and I will tell you the story of your shamed grandmother and the curse she has laid upon your grandfather.”

He watched Rachel frown, but still she stood and helped him to his feet. He watched her pack the dirt more with her shoe before tucking the hand shovel into her bag and offering her arm to him. Damian took it without much thought and allowed her to lead him back the way they had come.

“When your grandfather, Richard, was seven years old he was introduced to the future final Dragon Slayer of Gotham…” He started, resisting the urge to check on the spot they had buried the box one last time. Instead he told his oldest the story of his fathers and trusted that Madame Xanadu had told him the truth when she said it would remain until he returned one day to reclaim it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian wakes up after reliving his past life and is faced with a new outlook on his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. But don't worry! There is more to come. I've already started one piece and have been chatting with a few people about ideas regarding the others.
> 
> This has been quite the journey and I loved it, but I'm also glad to see this particular story end here. There's an end note regarding a future piece (it'll spoil this ending if I tell you here) that falls in line with this one. 
> 
> If there's anything in particular you would like to see, feel free to put it in a comment or hit me up on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me and all the kudos and comments. You all make it much more enjoyable to share my stories.
> 
> Side note: Jon is Superboy in this 'verse. No clue who Connor is outside of happily in love with Tim. Maybe they share the title, idk.

Damian woke slowly, consciousness coming back to him bit by bit as the memories faded to background noise as most memories did. He laid there, staring at the ceiling as they shifted into place as though they had always been there. His mind felt… _complete_ in a way he hadn’t known it wasn’t before. And though he knew it was only one lifetime that he had been made aware of, it still felt right. Things made so much more sense now that he knew. 

And he understood what Richard had been worried about, even if Damian happened to be one of the few who would ever be able to compartmentalize the emotion of then and the emotion of now. His years being raised by the LoA had its uses every and again. But Richard had been the father Damian had always wanted his actual father to be in this life. And even without these memories, Damian had always known Richard to be more of a father than his own. It had not been intentional, but he wondered now if it had been instinctual.

Glancing over at the clock, he saw it was still considered early and the sun was just barely starting to rise into the sky outside. But he sat up and knew he had something he had to do despite the early hour. Quickly, he got himself showered and dressed after calling down to the front desk and requesting a car to pick him up. With his wallet and room key in his back pocket, Damian slipped on his coat and tucked his phone into the inner breast pocket beside the small metal ice scoop he had found before heading out of his room.

“Your car is waiting out front, Sir,” the front desk employee told him with a nod. “The driver will take you wherever you please.”

“Is the Castle grounds open to visitors?” He didn’t comment on the surprised look on the clerk’s face but smiled when they nodded. “Thank you.” He made his way outside and greeted the driver before slipping into the backseat. “I need to get to the castle grounds on the East side of the forest.” The driver gave nothing away as he nodded and headed out. Damian sent off a quick text to both Richard and ~~Todd~~ Jason, telling them he had gone into the town for an errand and would be back in time for breakfast should they want to partake in it together.

He wasn’t surprised when Richard immediately responded with an ‘ _everything okay?_ ’ text. It made him smile, but also worried him that the man had not bothered to get any sleep. He replied that everything was just fine and that he would explain later.

“Mr. Wayne,” the driver called as the car pulled onto gravel. “This is as close as I am able to get you to where you requested.” Damian glanced out the window as the car stopped and mentally took in where they were in relation to where he needed to be. 

Nodded his head, he smiled at the driver. “This will do just fine,” he assured the man. “I shall be back shortly, please wait here.” The driver gave him a nod before Damian slipped out of the car and started walking. The grounds were familiar, but different at the same time. He was curious if Richard or Jason had made their way over here since coming back. He made a mental note to ask them later. But for now, he was focused on one particular spot. 

There was little movement as he entered the tree line and walked a path that had been long overgrown but remained familiar. The image of Jon in his wedding robes walking beside him on this same path came to the forefront of his mind and it made him smile. He wondered what the other man would say when Damian revealed that to him. Perhaps he would bring him here to show him all the places that had meant something to them. Much in the same way he assumed Jason and Richard had done. 

As he stepped into the glade he had promised his heart to Jon so many lifetimes ago, Damian felt the hush that fell over the creatures scurrying about. It was as if he had stepped back through that spell in Madame Xanadu’s shop and he could no longer hear the outside world.

It was almost unnerving.

But he had a task to focus on and didn’t want to consider what it meant right then. He made his way to the spot that looked like where he and Jon had been married and dropped to the cool earth. Carefully, he tugged away the moss that covered the dirt and set it aside to return it once he had refilled the hole. Once he was sure the space was big enough, he pulled out the ice scoop and used it as an impromptu shovel. It had been the only thing he could find on such short notice, but as he dug up the dirt he knew it was doing the job well enough.

It took a few minutes before he was able to really break past the hardened upper dirt and into the softer, warmer lower soil. Soil that was older than the object he was in search of. Soil that had protected something for him for centuries.

He found himself thankful for that fact as the ice scoop hit something that wouldn’t give the same way the soil had been. Carefully he worked his way around the box and widened the hole so he could reverently lift the box from the hole and brushed as much of the dirt off it as he could before setting aside. With just as much care, he replaced all the dirt and the moss before putting the ice scoop back into his pocket and picking the box up again.

Without opening it, he stood and headed back the way he came. He didn’t need to see it to know the item he had placed inside was still there. He trusted Madame Xanadu and the spell she had weaved for him.

Once he was out of the glade the sounds of the forest came back to him and he sighed, wondering yet again if there had been some sort of enchantment on the area. When he reached the tree-line again, he pulled his cell phone out to send a text to Richard and Jason to see if they wished to have breakfast.

“Hello Richard,” he answered, amused that his brother had decided to call instead of just texting back. He could hear Jason apologizing for him in the background, but Damian was used to this particular trait of his brother’s by now.

“You were up early this morning. Did you sleep?”

Damian hummed and smiled at the driver as he slipped back into the car, the box sitting carefully in his lap. “Back to the hotel, please,” he told the driver before turning his attention back to his brother. “I did sleep, quite well actually.”

There was a moment of silence and Damian knew Richard was trying to think of how to ask. 

“I took it before bed,” he decided to spare his brother the pain of having to figure it out. “I remember the first but I have gotten flashes of some others since being awake.”

“Yeah, that’s how it was for us too,” Richard said quietly before there was some muffled talking between him and Jason. “You’re on your way back? Where did you go?”

Damian looked at the box and considered what to say. “I had to retrieve something. I will explain when I show you, but shall we get breakfast together?”

“Jay thinks we should just order room service.” Damian thought about it and wondered if that would honestly be best. He knew returning the ring to Jason would be a bit of an emotional moment. “Dames?”

“Whatever you wish to do, Richard. I do not have an opinion either way.”

“Okay, I’ll just have him order a spread to be sent here.”

“Very well, we are pulling up now. I shall go back to my room for a moment and then come back to yours.” His brother agreed and Damian slipped his phone back into his pocket before pulling his wallet out. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said as he handed a sizeable tip to the driver. And with the box in hand again, he slipped out of the car and headed back to his room.

Once inside he quickly placed the ice scoop into his bathroom sink to clean later and hug his jacket back up before tucking his phone into his pant pocket and heading back out. He made the quick walk to the room where Richard and Jason were staying easily, knocking firmly on the door. He wasn’t surprised when it swung open almost immediately and revealed Richard looking slightly uneasy.

“Jesus Dickie let the kid come in,” Jason called out from somewhere beyond Damian’s sight range. Richard rolled his eyes before stepping aside and Damian walked past him. He spotted Jason sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, pulling on a pair of shoes. Damian did his best to hold back the look of disgust at the bed, knowing there was no chance something untoward didn’t happened the night before. “You keep those fucking judgement eyes to yourself, Gremlin.” 

“I do not have judgement eyes,” Damian huffed, looking back to Richard who was now leaning against the stand holding their television looking amused. And for all the emotions that had been unearthed with the memories, Damian found he had absolutely no idea what to say to the man. He wasn’t sure if saying thank you was enough or if he should have prepared some sort of speech.

“What do you have there, Dames?” Jason asked, saving him from undoubtedly making a fool of himself. Glancing down at the box he still held in hand, he ran his thumb over the lid before turning back to Jason. 

Holding it out, he waited as Jason’s face contorted in confusion before he reached out and took the object. “It is something of yours,” he told the older man. “From…I buried it after Jon passed away, in the days before my own death. With the help of Madame Xanadu and my daughter.” A soft gasp from Richard pulled Damian’s attention to the man.

“Daughter?” And Damian was reminded that he had never gotten to know his grandchildren. He hadn’t been a part of so many life changing events in Damian’s life. There would be much to share.

“Yes,” he nodded. “There is much to tell you,” he told Richard before looking back to Jason. “Much to tell both of you. But first.” He gestured to the box and Jason’s eyes moved from Damian to Richard and then back down to the box. Carefully, more carefully than Damian had ever seen him handle anything, the man opened the lid.

And though Damian expected an immediate reaction, there was none. He seemed to have frozen in the very spot and Damian would have said something if Richard hadn’t moved forward to place a hand on Jason’s shoulder. 

“Is this real?” Jason whispered, voice sounding strained. When he looked up, Damian was unnerved to see the tears brimming his eyes. Nodding, Damian remained quiet and let the man see the truth in his own eyes. And even though he hadn’t said it, Damian could practically hear the thank you just by looking at the man. He didn’t fight it when Jason stood to his feet, handed Richard the box, and wrapped Damian up in a hug. “Thank you, Little Prince,” he whispered, tightening his arms for a moment before releasing him.

They separated to see Richard holding the box in one hand and the ring between his thumb and pointer finger of the other hand. “I can’t believe this is real,” he whispered. And Damian could see the tears in his brother’s eyes just as they were in Jason’s. But he had known this would be an emotional moment all those centuries ago when he had buried the ring. He had known it still when he woke with the memory fresh in his mind.

“I gave it to Jon like you told me to,” he told Richard, who turned to look at him. “He never took it off. But when he asked if I wanted to give it to any of our children, I told him no. I wanted to be sure that when this day came, that you could have it back. Even if I didn’t know how it would happen at the time.” He glanced over at Jason. “It was an honor to have him wear something that belonged to one of my fathers.” That pulled Jason’s attention over to him, eyes wide and lips parting in surprise. “I didn’t get to tell you then, but I hope you at least felt it.”

He watched Jason swallow and nod. “I knew, Dames. It was the same for me.” And that was a relief. Because he might not have known to worry about it in the many lifetimes between then and now, he had certainly worried he hadn’t made it clear when Jason had been alive.

“Well, now I am extra glad I had Jason order the champagne with breakfast. We have lots to celebrate and even more after this afternoon.”

“So, you found a location for the ceremony?” Damian questioned and watched as Richard beamed and nodded, looking over at Jason. “Then we certainly do have much to celebrate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stepping out of the small chapel, Damian clicked accept on his phone and walked a few feet away from the building. “Jon,” he greeted, glancing back to make sure Jason and Richard hadn’t followed him out of the building. 

_“Dad just got home from a League meeting and told me the strangest thing.”_ Damian made a questioning noise but said nothing. _“He told me that Batman said Robin was not available for any missions for an undisclosed amount of time.”_

“Hmm, yes,” Damian confirmed. “I am out of the country. Is something happening?” He felt his body go on alert and knew that if Jon asked him to come help, he would do just that.

_“No, but I found it odd that I wasn’t even aware of the fact that my boyfriend was AWOL.”_

Rolling his eyes, Damian huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be dramatic. I am not AWOL. I am with Richard and Todd. They called and requested I join them on their trip.”

_“I thought you said this was some sort of soul-searching trip for them?”_

“It is. Or was,” he said, not sure which was actually true. Since they had found the castle did that mean they would head home after their wedding and possible honeymoon? “I’m not certain how much I’m allowed to tell you just yet. But I will explain things when I get back.”

There were a few beats of silence before he heard Jon take a deep breath. _“Does this have anything to do with whatever it was that had you worried a few months ago?”_

And _of course_ Jon would remember that. Of course he would remember Damian calling him in the middle of the night to sit with him on Wayne Tower while he worried whether or not Richard had been telling him the truth about him having done nothing wrong.

“It does. I was given some answers, and more are coming forth every day.” It was Jon’s turn to make a questioning noise and Damian closed his eyes to picture the look on his boyfriend’s face. “I promise, Beloved, I will tell you when I return home.”

“Dami?” Turning, he saw Richard standing at the top of the stairs that led to the entrance of the building. “You good? We’re about to get this started.” Giving one nod, Damian signaled he’d be right there. 

“Jon, I need to go. I will call you later with more of an idea of how long until I return home.” He could hear Jon sigh over the line and knew what was coming.

_“You’re killing my curiosity here, Dames. Seriously.”_

Damian chuckled and headed up the steps with the phone still pressed to his ear. “Well, you’ll have to suffer a bit longer. I do need to go, Beloved. I’ll call you later.”

_“Okay, okay. Stay safe. Love you.”_

“And I you.” He hung up the call, silenced his phone, and slipped it back into his pocket as he reentered the chapel. He found Richard and Jason at the doors that would lead to where the ceremony would. The two of them looked at him when he approached, smiling in their own way when he reached them. “Where would you like me?” He questioned, glancing past them to the aisle that led to the waiting minister.

“We thought we could all walk down there together. And the minister agreed to allow you to stand up there with him and do the handfasting.” A brief flash of his own handfasting with Jon came to mind as Damian nodded, agreeing to the plan. “It’s not the traditional route where we would braid the chord, but we can do that back home, with the family.”

“That would be fitting. Are we ready then?” He glanced from Richard to Jason and then back again, receiving a nod from both men before he walked just slightly behind them, yet in the space between their bodies. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but now that they were at this point he found himself nervous. Not because he thought he might mess up, but because he was about to witness something that everything had fought to prevent for so long. But finally, _finally_ it was about to happen, and he was being allowed to witness it.

The minister gave a nod when the three of them reached him, gesturing to the spot beside him for Damian to stand and the younger man followed the direction easily. Turning, he clasped his hands behind his back and watched the two men as they turned their attention onto the minister. 

As far as ceremonies went, it was simple and precise. Richard had mentioned they were only after the legally binding contract and that the show could come once they were home and planning a wedding for those in attendance. Damian knew his father wouldn’t allow the event to pass without all the bells and whistles, even if he was still hesitant on the relationship between the two men. 

Today though? This was just about binding themselves to one another in a way that they had not been allowed to before. And the joy at being able to do just that was thick in the air between them. To the point that Damian could probably choke on it. But he also reveled in it. He basked in their happiness and allowed his own lips to lift in a smile, though more conservative, but happy all the same. 

And that smile grew as the minister turned to him and offered him the chorded ribbon so he could fast their hands together.

Silently, he took the chord and stepped in front of the two men and began wrapping the braid around their hands in the same manner that had he remembered having been done to him and Jon. He glanced at Richard and found his eyes locked on Jason’s as they said the vows and promised their lives to the other. It made him swallow hard against a sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to spill over. He looked so much like the man he remembered from before in that moment. So much love, hope, shinning in his eyes. And this was all Damian had ever wanted back then. He had wanted so desperately to see his father happy again after Jason had died, and now he was being afforded that chance.

Once the chord was tied off, he smiled at both men before stepping to the side again so the ceremony could finish. And that smile remained as they were instructed to kiss each other for the first time as a married couple, the sight causing his heart to clench.

“Thank you,” he said to the minister as he took his leave before turning back to the two men. “I suppose this is the where one might say ‘it’s about time’, is it not?” He teased, laughing lightly when Richard pulled him in for a tight hug. One Damian returned with just as much strength. One he gave to Jason the moment Richard finally released him, as well. 

When they had separated, Damian looked at the two of them and blinked back tears. “Thank you for allowing me to be here for this.”

“Couldn’t have been anyone else, kid,” Jason told him, tugging Richard into his side with an arm over his shoulder. “Now, how about we go grab some food and just enjoy a little bit of peace? For once in our fucking lives.”

“Yeah…that sounds nice,” Richard said, smiling up at the man. Damian watched his brother push up onto his toes to give Jason a kiss and he felt his smile soften to something genuine and usually reserved for Richard or Jon. He supposed now Jason would be included in that small group. “Come on, Dames,” Richard hooked his arm into Damian’s and tugged him along as they began heading for the exit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With practiced ease, Damian dropped silently on the Bludhaven rooftop Jason had sent him coordinates to earlier in the evening. Give the near dawn, he figured that Richard was unaware of the meeting and that he should keep it quiet from his father as well. So, he had mentioned some vague plans with Jon before heading out on his motorcycle to meet his brother where he had requested.

“Robin,” the mechanical voice of Red Hood greeted him as he walked over to where the man was seated on the ledge of the rooftop.

Stopping just a few feet to his right, toes touching the raised edge Jason sat on, Damian looked down at the alley that Hood seemed to be watching. “Hood, what’s this about?”

Damian watched him out of the corner of his eye as Jason hit the release on his helmet and removed it, setting it down next to him on the edge. He waited as for him to speak, knowing how to communicate with the man after years of trying.

“Wing mentioned you asked about Catalina yesterday and that he told you to just let it go because it wasn’t worth digging up those memories.” Turning his head, Damian regarded him closely as he recalled the conversation that had been shut down faster than he had ever thought possible. Especially with Richard. Damian couldn’t recall a time where his bother didn’t give him answer. Even more so now that Damian had been given the potion for his memories and had managed to accumulate most of them in the past two weeks since his impromptu trip at Richard’s request. “He’s right, he deserves the right to not have to relive that particular period of his life.”

“But you are not him,” Damian countered, guessing where this was going. Carefully he sat down on the ledge and let his legs drape over the side.

“I am not him.”

Looking out at the skyline, Damian considered the situation before looking back to Jason. “What did she do? All I could find was that she was in Blackgate for killing Blockbuster and that Nightwing had attempted to turn himself in for the same murder but…” He made an abortive gesture and watched Jason huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, B’s records are not going to have the full story on this one. I don’t know that anyone outside of Donna and myself actually know what happened.” That meant it was bad. But not bad as in something Richard himself had done. Bad that he felt Batman would either turn his back on him or blame him for whatever it was. “I’ll tell you the story if you promise that it dies here. He can’t know I told you or that you know. It would devastate him. And the events are a little too close to what happened the last time she had been in his life.”

Frowning, Damian tried to think of what he could mean by that. He recalled moments that were not good between his parents, but he couldn’t figure out what Jason could be referencing. The memories might be freshly implanted in his mind, but they still had the slightly fuzzy quality that memories tended to have the older you got. This was no different.

“I will speak of it to no one,” Damian promised, even if it might be a lie. If he needed to, he would probably talk to Jon about it. But he would certainly not say anything to Richard about it. Of that, he was certain.

Damian met Jason’s gaze head on, as much as possible with their whited-out lenses on their dominos and waited for the man to start talking. It took a few moments but eventually the hesitance fell from Jason’s shoulders in an almost visible way and the man started talking. “When he met Catalina, she…” And Damian sat there, listening to a tale he would have said couldn’t possibly be accurate if he hadn’t read the files his father had amassed in the computer back in the Cave. He wouldn’t think it possible for Richard to somehow let someone figure out his identity and then actively use it against him in such a way. But while Damian might have blamed his older brother for the problem when he was much younger, he knew now there was probably little the man could have done to prevent it. Especially not with Catalina playing both sides.

And when Jason finally revealed how Catalina killed Blockbuster and then what transpired on the rooftop after, Damian gripped the edge of the rooftop tightly and cursed whoever had killed her in Blackgate because he would have enjoyed handling that on his own. His father’s golden rule be damned.

“I don’t need to see your eyes to know exactly what you’re thinking,” Jason stated, leaning toward Damian. “I would have done it too. I wanted to dig her up and toss her in the pit just so I could. Your mother owes me so I could have, but I also know it’s the absolute last thing he would want. No matter how cathartic it would be.”

Damian let out a sharp breath through his nose and turned to look out at the disgusting waste of a city Richard was so fond of. “You said it was similar to what happened back then…how could she have…?” He didn’t understand the comparison. Was that how he had been conceived?

“Stop it,” Jason’s voice was firm, and Damian looked over at him, startled at the tone. “You are not a product of that situation. He was an active participant in those events. But after…some of the council had gotten under her thumb and convinced the others that Dick had to perform his “husbandly duty” at least once a year. He was very much against it, as he had gotten his heir, but they overruled him, and he had no choice. It was…” The older man frowned and looked away, shoulders hunching slightly.

“Hood?”

“Sorry, bad memories. That last hunt I went on was because she had cornered me and told me she was pregnant and if I didn’t go then she would drink a potion that would abort the baby.” Damian knew his eyes would be saucers if they were visible. He remembered the Ah Ghul soldier his mother had met in the alleyway and knew the events were connected. The man had given her something, he wondered if it was what she had used against Jason. “But I don’t think she was ever actually pregnant. I just couldn’t risk it. She said that I wouldn’t be returning, but I thought it was a bluff.”

But Jason had come back, just not in the manner they had expected.

And while most of his memories were fuzzy, the ones of comforting his father after Jason’s death were clear in almost a fragile sort of way. Like if he were to reach out, he could break the glass they were projected on. It fell in line with how painful the memories were, still.

“He never got over that,” Damian admitted, not able to look at Jason. “It killed him. Your death…he was still my father, but he started to fade. And I tried _so hard_ to comfort him, but-” he cut himself off with a sigh. He hadn’t understood when he was younger. He hadn’t realized he loved Jon then and once he had, it was too late to really understand what exactly his father had been feeling. Especially since he never lost Jon in a sudden matter. The older man had passed in his sleep a few days before Damian himself had followed. It was peaceful.

Startling when the feel of a hand covering his own pulled him out of his thoughts, Damian glanced down at the gloved hand before looking back to Jason who was much closer now. “It fucking _sucks_. What she did has brought a lot of pain to our lives, but it’s not going to happen again. The damage has been done and we control our fate from here on out, okay?”

“Do we though?”

“What do you mean?” Damian looked over at Jason and huffed out a breath through his nose.

“I love Jon. I have loved him for a few years now, I don’t question that. But…” he paused, trying to think of the best way to put his thoughts into words. He wasn’t sure how exactly the state what he was worried about.

But apparently he didn’t need to. “You’re worried if ‘Wing and I love each other because of what was and not because of what is?” He could only shrug in response. “Look, I get it. I do. It seems like what happened between us suddenly happened once we had our encounter with Fate. Truth is, we had already been building toward something long before that.” That was surprising. His eyebrows pulled down in the middle and he knew that his confusion was clear when Jason chuckled. “We had even been on a date. Though neither of us would have admitted to that. But that’s definitely what it was.”

“So you did not just begin your relationship because you were shown how fated you two were?” Jason shook his head and Damian sighed. 

“You don’t have to worry about our hearts, Baby Bat, it’s real. We wouldn’t have gotten married if it weren’t.” He supposed that was true. But it was also nice not to have to worry that Richard would get himself hurt again. Especially not by someone so close to the family. 

Curiously, he watched Jason reach up to his ear and tap it before staring off into the distance, listening to whoever had tapped into his comm line. “I will be on my way home in a few.” Richard then. “How about that Thai place? I want to try something new. I’ll text it to you.” He listened to the conversation go on a little longer as he watched the city before Jason said a gentle ‘I love you’ and tapped his ear again. 

“Thank you for telling me what I needed to know,” Damian said, hoping it sounded as sincere as he felt. 

“Superboy,” Jason greeted when a soft shuffle of feet touching down on the roof hit their ears. Damian perked up and glanced behind him to find Jon standing there looking a bit confused. Looking back to Jason, he tilted his head in question and the older man just laughed as he stood and picked up his helmet. “I texted ‘Wing to call for him to come meet you. I need to go pick up our food and then get home to my husband, but you could probably use a shoulder at the moment.”

Damian moved to stand on the rooftop and watched Jason pull the red helmet back on, leaving the faceplate up. “It is all right…?” Jason gave a firm nod before stepping forward to give him a hug and Damian easily sank into it. “Thank you.”

“Come by tomorrow. I’ll make veggie pizza and Dick can torture us with Disney movies.” Damian let out a laugh and nodded as he stepped back. “Only Jon, okay? I wouldn’t ask you to keep a secret from him, but no one else.” And Damian was thankful. Especially since this was such a big one. Having the permission to share the burden was nice. “Stay safe, kid.”

“You too.” 

Backing up, Damian came to a stop next to where Jon stood in his Superboy costume, watching the events curiously. But Damian didn’t say anything until Jason had dropped off the building and shot off his grapple in the general direction of the apartment he and Richard shared in the city.

“Hey,” Jon greeted him with a smirk, looking over at Damian when he turned to glance at his boyfriend. “I know a place that’s real secluded and has some of the best apple pie known to man…”

And though Robin usually had fun throwing biting retorts back at Superboy, Damian was glad to have Jon there right then. “That sounds like just the thing I need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am planning a one shot/companion piece to this where Damian tells Jon about the past lives and possibly getting Jon the potion to restore his memories. I will not, however, be writing a story from Jon's POV on that. This particular life has run it's course and it is time to put it to rest.
> 
> Also the wedding involving the family and friends in Gotham, that might be a thing too. Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat about this or any of my other stories, hit me up on tumblr [here](https://composetheheart.tumblr.com/).


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